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YOUNG OXFORD .... ... 245 

OXFORD AS IT is ... . 255 

NOTES . rf , 267 

INDEX . . . 293 


THE papers in tliis volume represent an idea which 
was constantly in Mr. Green's thoughts for many 
years a History of Oxford. The Essays on Oxford 
in the Last Century were his first work, written in 
the Oxford Chronicle of 1859. Almost his first article 
to the Saturday Review, in 1867, was on "Watch and 
Ward in Oxford ",- and his first papers in Macmittatfs 
Magazine, in 1871, were on Oxford and its Early 
History; "whereof," as he says, "the thesis is two- 
fold: (1) That the University killed the City; and (2) 
that the Church pretty well killed the University." * 
In that year he returns to the same subject : " Eoam- 
ing through these little Ligurian towns makes me 
utter just the old groans you used* to join in when 
we roamed about France groans, I mean, over the 
state of our local histories in England. There isn't 
one of these wee places that glimmer in the night 
like fireflies in the depth of their bays that hasn't a 
full and generally admirable account of itself and its 

* Letters, pp. 170, 260, 283. 


doings. They are sometimes wooden enough in point 
of style and the like, but they use their archives, and 
don't omit, as all our local historians seem to make a 
point of doing, the history of the town itself. I have 
made a little beginning for that of Oxford in the first 
paper I sent to George Grove ; but clearly the first 
part of such work, the printing and sifting materials, 
falls properly to the local antiquary." * 

Born in 4 St. John's Street, Mr. Green was from 
his childhood sensitive to the spirit of his native 
city. Its outer beauty had lifted his imagina- 
tion. "Bells had their poetry for me from the first 
as they still have," he says, "and the Oxford peals 
would always fill me with a strange sense of 
delight . . . There was the awe of listening to one 
'of the college choirs, and hearing the great organ at 
New College or Magdalen ! . . . Tho College was a 
poem in itself ; its dim cloisters, its noble chapel, its 
smooth lawns, its park with the deer browsing 
beneath venerable elms, its 'walks' with 'Addison's 
walk' in the midst of them, but where we boys 
thought less of Addison than of wasps' nests and craw- 
fishing. Of all the Oxford colleges it was the state- 
liest and the most secluded from the outer world, and 
though I can laugh now at the indolence and useless- 
ness of the collegiate life of my boy -days, my boyish 
imagination was overpowered by the solemn services, 
the white-robed choir, the long train of divines and 
fellows, and the president moving like some 
* Letters, pp. 295 96. 


mysterious dream of the past among the punier 
creatures of the present. . . . May morning too was 
a burst of poetry every year of my boyhood. Before 
the Eeformation it had been customary to sing a 
mass at the moment of sunrise on the 1st of May, 
and some time in Elizabeth's reign this mass was 
exchanged for a hymn to the Trinity. At first we 
used to spring out of bed, and gather in the gray of 
dawn on the top of the College tower, where 
choristers and singing-men were already grouped in 
their surplices. Beneath us, all wrapped in the dim 
mists of a spring morning, lay the city, the silent 
reaches of Cherwell, the great commons of Cowley 
marsh and Bullingdon now covered with houses, but 
then a desolate waste. There was a long hush of 
waiting just before five, and then the first bright 
point of sunlight gleamed out over the horizon; 
below, at the base of the tower, a mist of discordant 
noises from the tin horns of the town boys greeted 
its appearance, and above, in the stillness, rose the 
soft pathetic air of the hymn Te Deum Patrem 
colimus. As it closed, the sun was fully up, 
surplices were thrown off, and with a burst of gay 
laughter the choristers rushed down the little 
tower stair, and flung themselves on the bell ropes, 
* jangling' the bells in rough mediaeval fashion till 
the tower shook from side to side. And then, as 
they were tired, came the ringers ; and the e jangle ' 
died into one of those c peals,' change after change, 
which used to cast such a spell over my 


boyhood." * I well remember the passionate 
enthusiasm with which he watched from the train 
for the first sight of the Oxford towers against the 

As a child too he had felt the power of Oxford in 
the Past. His first prize had been given him by the 
old President of Magdalen who wore the last wig 
ever seen in Oxford, who had himself seen Dr. John- 
son. " We boys used to stand overawed as the old 
man passed by, the keen eyes looking out of the 
white, drawn face, and feel as if we were looking 
on some one from another world." t It was 
from Oxford itself that he learned to deny the 
convention that would separate between Ancient and 
Modern History. "Oxford seems to me the one 
place where this distinction vanishes. There in its 
very system of training the old and the new worlds 
are brought together as they are brought nowhere 

The history of the Papers on "Oxford in the 
Eighteenth Century " is given in a preface to a re- 
print in 1859 of two series of articles published in 
the Oxford GJironide of that year. " It was intended 
by the proprietors of the Oxford Chronicle that this 
series should embrace the whole period from 1750 
to the middle of the present century, detailing in 
chronological order the more marked events of every 
year, the municipal changes, the local improvements, 

* Letters, pp. 4-6. f Ib. p. 6. J 76. p. 176. 


the social progress of the town. For the execution, 
however, of such a project it is plain that the good- 
will and co-operation of the custodians of the city 
archives were absolutely necessary; and this co- 
operation in a matter of such great civic interest it 
was never doubted they would be only too ready to 
afford. With these expectations, the most respectful 
application was made for access to civic documents, 
but, to our great surprise (and, perhaps, to our readers 
also), the request was met by a refusal At the 
Spanish Queen's levee each lady used to be attended 
by two gallants, who were permitted to remain 
covered in the presence even of Majesty, on the sup- 
position that they were too engrossed to remember 
anything but their mistress. A similar excuse in 
the engrossing character of the pursuits in which they 
are engaged may perhaps be found for our civic 
authorities. It will be hard, at least, to suggest any 

There were however certain good friends of know- 
ledge both in the University and among the civic 
officers, who gave their help to the enterprise, lending 
books and documents and supplying such information 
as was possible. " The information thus kindly com- 
municated, as well as that which has been withheld, 
has led to changes of some importance in our scheme. 
It became impossible to persevere in the original 
project without rendering the papers a mere dull 
summary of petty and uninteresting events. It was 
determined, therefore, on the change of authorship at 


the conclusion of the First Series, to adapt them, as 
far as possible, to our existing sources of information ; 
and since we could not present a chronological history, 
to depict in as lively a manner as possible the Life of 
the Times which were so fast passing away from us. 
Papers detailing the events of several periods were at 
the same time interspersed amongst the others, and 
it was hoped that the combination would give to our 
readers no incomplete idea of the Life of Oxford 
during the Last Century. The proprietors have 
wished to satisfy the interest which has been felt in 
this series by the present reprint of them, and they 
have only to hope, in conclusion, that their attempt, 
frustrated though it has been in some respects, has, 
on the whole, done no unimportant service in filling 
up a very conspicuous gap in our civic history and 
antiquities " 

Mr. Green, then in his last year of residence, was 
the anonymous author of the Second Series of papers 
on Oxford in the Eighteenth Century. His rooms 
at Jesus are described by Sir Owen Roberts as "on 
the first staircase on the right entering the second 
quadrangle next the Principal's house in the corner, 
and on the second floor on the left right as one 
ascends the stairs." In the summer months when 
these essays were written, between July and Sep- 
tember, he was at 13 High Street. The idea of the 
papers was perhaps suggested to the proprietors by 
the piles of volumes of the Oxford Chronicle of the 
eighteenth century still preserved in the Office, un- 


fortunately by accident of fire no longer perfect. 
The volumes formed, as will be seen in the 
references to these Essays, a rich source of 
information for the social history of the past. Some 
fragments from a diary kept by Mr. Green at 
the time show his perpetual eagerness in gathering in 
from every source whatever could be known about 

Friday, 5th August 1859. "Eose at seven, arranged 
notes for papers on Jacobite Oxford ; at breakfast read 
Burton; ran over to Cooke with three papers on 
Civic Oxford, which make up nine of the series. 
That on the Toasts appears to-day in print. . . . 
Afternoon read magazines in Union, especially 
Sword and Gown in Fraser. After tea wrote No. I. 
of the Jacobite papers, succeeding pretty well in 
point of style, I think, but desperately Whig Whigs 
being in Oxford the minority. Eead a little Burton, 
and sallied forth with Dick round meadow. . . . 

Saturday, 6th. "Rose at seven, leaving Dick asleep 
in bed, and finished the paper, interrupted just before 
ending by breakfast, resumed, but close very stupid 
in consequence. Burton at breakfast, but interrupted 
by frequent calls for my book-desk the loaf. . . . 
The Union papers and reviews after dinner, ex- 
tracts for my papers, etc. from Spence and other 
sources. Burton at tea, and after tea Coleridge's 
Northern Worthies, a book below the name, at least. 


What of sketches of Oxford Worthies Davenant, 
Chillingworth, Pococke, etc. ? 

Sunday, 7th. " Uncle at dinner remembers when 
Christ Church dined at three, and some at four ; none 
at five. Says, Dr. Jackson, when asked to advance 
from two to three, replied, * to one, if you like.' . . . 
The night so close I could not sleep for thinking of my 
plans for literary work, especially my ' Oxford-born 
Worthies,' which I planned out elaborately in my 

Monday, 8th. "Drew uncle out at tea about old 
Oxford. Tales were lingering about the resort of Dons 
to Taverns when he came here, 1810 ; especially to that 
which stood where Evans lives now. I told the story 
of Warton and the Dream. Spoke of the Music Hall ; 
he remembered the weekly entertainments which 
were transferred to the Town Hall from insufficiency 
of room. Catalani was the first to sing there. The 
concerts used to be important affairs, and the trustees 
important men, especially Dr. Johnson of Magdalene, 
a big, pompous, good-humoured fellow. Sir Francis 
Burdett lived in the two houses of Aid. Spiers and 
Aid. Sadler's wife his lady's maid. Sir Edward 
Hitchings succeeded him, removing from Clarke's 
Row, to which he had retired on quitting business. 
Aunt spoke of the greater mixture and familiarity 
which used to exist between University and City 
from their meeting in Taverns. At the bottom of 
George Street, aunt says, 'the respectable citizens' 
used to meet, etc. The Bear Inn, whence name of 


lane, stood where Foster's house now stands, had a 
coach entry to High Street. 

Sunday, 14ft.. . . . "Finished half my twelfth 
paper. Shall go on with it now. Ended it and 
strolled out to Merton; find they are building up 
again the Meadow Gate " (a few days before he had 
noticed in his walk the demolition of the gate). "I 
asked a policeman the reason of this pulling down 
and building up. ' 'Cos they don't know what to do 
with their money, I suppose, sir.' . . . 

Friday, l$th. . . . "When uncle came home to 
prayers I drew him out about old times, Apropos of a 
little book of 1818 I showed him, and gleaned a few 
curious items for my papers, e g. he remembers old 
Dennet, the last of the Barbers, turning out at four 
with his apron and scissors to trim and powder the 
* Gentlemen's ' heads for Hall. 

Saturday, 20tk. "Disappointed in Notes and Queries, 
but hit on a mine of information in Mcholls, at ex- 
tracts from which I was busied all the morning. 
Returned to dinner, found a relative of uncle's who 
farms a little near North Leach. We talked of 
enclosures, and the great downs he remembered 
sprinkled with a few half-starved sheep, now every- 
where covered with crops. I wished to lead the 
subject to that remarkable coincidence between the 
enlargement of enclosures and the local improvement 
of towns, but he refused to travel beyond his own 
tether. The whole afternoon I dug in Nicholls. . . . 

Tuesday, 23rd. "'Ah! woe is me/ quoth the niece, 


* my uncle a poet too ! he knows everything ! nothing 
comes amiss to Mm!' 'I assure thee, niece,' 
answered Don Quixote, 'that were not my whole 
soul engrossed by the arduous duties of chivalry, I 
would engage to do anything there is not a curious 
art I would not acquire, especially that of making 
bird-cages and tooth-picks ! ' Is this the case with 
myself? Is the Opus Magnum to dwindle down to 
monographs on Sir Leoline Jenkins or Oxford 
Worthies or the slop-work of magazines and 
reviews ? I lay tossing and tumbling last night with 
the thought of this. Sir Leoline's life would be a 
sop to the Jesuits Oxford Worthies (not forgetting 
Wilkins), a sop to my fellow-citizens. But the Opus 
well, c God send it a good delivery, 7 as they say at 
Assizes. I bundled off my Jacobite papers this 
morning, and am already planning those on Educa- 
tion, but intend interposing some on the County, etc. 
Oh, that I knew a little about marl, loam, and clay ! 

Fiiday, 2th. . . . " It requires great intellectual 
power to be diffuse. A loose rambling style can only 
be adapted to a mind like De Quincey, full of varied 
thoughts and quaint paradoxical speculations or 
Southey's, with its hoards of miscellaneous learning ; 
for ordinary mortals who have no such reserve of 
wealth to peep out between the chinks of their style, 
'tis impossible to be too terse and condensed. I have 
sinned Deeply in these last papers of mine on the 
Jacobites, though the patchwork I have to sew to- 
gether is provocative of the sin* 


Friday, 29/A September. "At uncle's dinner last 
night, chat with Slatter. His partner, Monday, an 
apprentice of old Fletcher's. The Oxford Spy pub- 
lished by them. The first part came with a note 
requesting publication ; they read and liked it and it 
took The three other parts followed, and when 
all were inserted, the real author called and they 
made him a handsome remuneration with which he 
was much gratified. The secret of his name is still 
preserved. Its incidents were quite true, especially 
that of the Proctors breaking into Locke's house, 
and the room where his wife lay ill in bed, in search 
of some runaway young men. They published the 
eccentric Dr. Tatham's sermons and pamphlets. To 
one, in which he advocated a National Bank, he 
always attributed the bank's consent to help Pitt In 
the French War. They published too his Bamp~ 
tons, including that celebrated one of an hour and 
three-quarters, which drove the Bishop of Gloucester 
(2) out of church from sheer fatigue. He had long 
been promulgating his strictures on the ' Aristo- 
telian ' mode of education with little success, so this 
sermon was made the vehicle for the diffusion of his 
peculiar views. * You profess to educate the youth 
of the country, but the youth require a visit to 
continental capitals to complete their education!' 
He proposed Modern Languages and History, and 
seems to have been a reformer before his age. He was 
probably the last punster in an University pulpit. 
' What with your Little Goes and Great Goes, I fear 


education will give you the By go/ The Lady's Visit 
to Oxford was written by Mrs. Hewlitt (wife of the 
author of Peter Priggens); the second part was 
never published. The Oxford Volunteers, in which he 
was Lieutenant, mustered 800 strong, in two divi- 
sions. Dr. Tatham rode up their ranks, promising 
to pension the widow of the first man who fell in 
the country's cause. The Lucubratwns of Councillor 
JBicfarton, which they published, was written by a 
Mr. Tawney, then gentleman commoner of Exeter. 
The Councillor was not offended, but came in and 
seriously proposed a share in the profits in lieu of the 
liberty taken with his name. He studied for the bar 
and used once to go circuit in a post-chaise of his 
own with one horse. He was miserably poor, and used 
to cut branches from the trees in Hertford Quad for 
fuel. On one occasion he quietly severed the branch 
on which he sat and came to the ground. Mother 
Goose (her real name he mentioned, but I forget) a 
great favourite with the University men. When the 
Regent passed through to Bibury Races he would 
change horses at the 'Lamb and Flag/ take one of 
her bouquets and fling her a guinea. The knighting 
by mistake was a true story. William Elias Taunton 
was Town Clerk; his son of the same name, the 
Recorder, was absent when the Prince drove up, and 
the father read the address, but instead of handing 
it to the Mayor for presentation, handed it in himself. 
The Regent took a sword from one of his attendants, 
asked his name, and knighted him. He was reminded 


that it was an error. Bid the Mayor stand 
forward/ and he rose Sir Joseph Locke. Truly, a 
Comedy of Errors. The great Oxfordshire election 
he was surprised no one had touched on. It ruined 
every family concerned but Turner's. It was not a 
struggle against the Duke as I supposed. Parties of 
twenty rode out to fetch in a single voter. The 
conduit ran with wine. It was then opposite 
Slatter's house. The four were returned, and a 
scrutiny conducted "before the House of Commons. 
The Oxford election which wrested one seat from the 
Duke was different from this. His wife's father (as 
I understood) one of the Corporation imprisoned in 
the Tower. 

" The Town Clerk as usual lectured on the Grace 
Cups. The large one is a present from Charles II. , 
as the inscription testifies. The small, plain, "but 
very valuable two-handed cup of solid gold, worth 
about 200 or 300, was a present from Villiers, 
Duke of Buckingham, High Steward of the City. 
(How did he become so ? Did he interfere in 
elections ?) There are a series of letters from him 
still preserved in the City archives, inviting the 
Corporation to Clieveden, etc. : A good subject for 
a novelist/ said the Town Clerk; 'these old 
burgesses amongst the wit and wickedness of 
Buckingham Court. 7 They are written in a school- 
boy's hand. (See and copy these, and study the 
subject.) George the Fourth's cup was presented 
by the Old Corporation before its decease to Tommy 


Ensworth. They feared that in the zeal for reform 
all the plate would be sold. There were in- 
deed madmen, such as Bristow, who counselled 

It seems that by the end of September one series 
of papers was completed, and Mr. Green was pro- 
posing to reach out beyond the city into regions 
where the proprietors of the Oxford Chronicle 
hesitated to follow him, into the county history, 
the history of religion and education. "I have 
finished," he writes, "the first of my papers 
on the County considerably debated; I reserve 
erasures for my collected edition. This Aid. Spiers 
seemed to be looking forward to with some interest. 
Then Oxford during the Siege, and Will Davenant, 
and the rest of the Oxford-born Worthies and the 
Oxford Quarterly, and a thousand other unhatched 
projects immensum navigavim'us cequor hey for a 
literary life!" 

Friday. . . . " ' You have not been an idle 
fellow,' said B., 'and yet you have so little to show 
for your work.' I suppose I am the only fellow 
who would think so, yet I don't doubt that my 
career has been a successful one,' I replied. . . . 
'What have you learnt? 7 said B. 'What few here 
seem to learn,' said I, 'to think.' 

WPednesday evening, 2nd November. " c You have 
done the College a great service/ said B. to me a 
night or two ago, { in introducing to them an animal 


who read, and yet did not read for honours.'" ... I 
have passed, with compliments from the examiners, 
but without honours and must strike out for myself 
till I have convinced mankind that I can swim after 

"Besides reading a review of Sede's pamphlet and 
spending a couple of hours over a paper for the 
Chonide I have done little to-day." 

It was a bitter disappointment to him and a 
great discouragement at the time, to be forced to 
abandon projects he had so much at heart. A 
letter written some years later recalls his regret 
at this decision : 

April 1867. 

MY DEAR H. I send the loose sheets I have no 
other of what I wrote about Oxford. Of course I don't 
swear by all of it now ; I see, for instance, that the social 
part is over-coloured. It is the almost necessary conse- 
quence of using memoirs or pamphlets, etc. as authorities 
before one has learnt the use of a little wholesome 
criticism. The Jacobite part is new and not bad ; and 
had I been allowed to continue the series of papers by a 
few on the religion and educational state of Oxford then, 
I might have found something new to tell there too. 
But they came out as you know in a local paper and 
it would stand no more. . . . Yours very busily, 

J. B. G. 

. I can't find the first paper, but it was a mere 
preface. I think I have generally quoted my authorities. 
I have made much use of the Terrce Filius. 


Many of Mr. Green's letters and papers have been 
lost, and many destroyed. There remain only a few 
fragmentary pieces to indicate his constant interest in 
the Oxford of his own day. A letter of Sept. 22, 
I860, alludes to some friction which had arisen be- 
tween him and the Oxford magnates on the subject 
of the Eifle Corps.* 

" We had Morrell's great dinner to the Eifle Corps 
here last Thursday Bishop, Duke, Heads of 
Houses, M.P.'s, etc., all in robes ; a pretty sight they 
say (the 'they' being ladies). At the end of the 
proceedings Cooke of the CJironick inserts in type my 
verses against the Eifle Corps wide irae" The 
lines went against what may be called the outburst 
of Jingoism of that day. In 1858 the plot of Orsini 
was prepared in London to blow up the Emperor ; it 
was followed by the address of the French Colonels 
to Louis Napoleon, demanding to be led on London. 
Orsini's fellow conspirator, Bernard, was tried in 
London 1859, acquitted, and carried in triumph 
shoulder-high by the mob. Then came the assem- 
bling of the French fleet at Cherbourg, and the forma- 
tion of Eifle Corps all over England celebrated 
by Tennyson in his verses "Form, Eiflemen, Form ! " 
Mr. Green's lines were given in the Chronicle of 
Saturday, September 22, 1860, immediately after a 
long account of the "Grand Banquet to the Oxford 
City Eifle Corps," which had taken place on the 
previous Thursday. The lino in verse four, " Fight 
* Letters, p. 46. 


bravely o'er trimmings and facings," is an allusion 
to a discussion which had been going on in the news- 
paper for some weeks previously about a proposed 
alteration in the uniform of the Corps. 


" The Guarantee Fund of the Exhibition of 1852 is still 
open. " Athenawn. 

Build ! what, a Temple to Peace f 

I laugh as I utter the word 
Peace with a mailed hand 

And its olive-branch hiding a sword 

Peace ! but an, hour ago 

Came a martial clangour this way, 
And nursemaids and boys followed, gaping, 

A thin file of heroes in grey. 

Has life, then, heroes in grey, 

Nothing deeper and truer than this 

To march with a clangour of war 
To watch how the rifle-shots miss ? 

To drill when the drill's not too early ; 

Parade when the weather seems fine ; 
Fight bravely o'er trimmings and facings ; 

And dare not to die but to dine 1 

Better war than a hypocrite peace 
Better war with its stern hard dints, 

Than a Peace full of childish fears, 
Of panics and rumours and hints. 


Better battle with blow for blow 

Hard strife amid dust and gore 
Than double-faced Peace like this 

This puerile mimic of War. 

"War ! there is war to be waged, 
Real war, by the weakest hand 

War with the craven fears 

That deaden the heart of the land. 

Arm ! but with the weapons of Peace ! 

Let the Rifle rust as it will, 
While the shuttle from loom to loom 

Flies merry and blythe through the mill 

While early at dawn the ploughshare 
Cleaves through the rich black mould ; 

While mile upon mile in the sunshine 
The heavy grain ripens to gold. 

Then, oh ! for the weapons of labour 
The warfare that never may cease. 

While fearless, and honest, and earnest, 
Man fights the glad battle of Peace. 

J. R. G. 

In the same number of the Chronicle a Perambula- 
tion of the Bounds of the city is announced for the 
following Monday, September 24 ; and a week later 
a short description is given beginning thus: "The 
ancient custom of perambulating the boundary of the 
city was performed on Monday last, and as seven 
years have elapsed since the event took place, during 
the Mayoralty of Aid. Dudley, it excited a consider- 


able degree of interest." A letter of Mr. Green's* 
gives an account of his share in the proceedings. 

" Oh, how I wish you had been in Oxford to go 
with me round the city boundaries. About once in 
eight years the Mayor has to do this, winding up 
with a great feed. I was invited and went. We 
marched in red and fur (i.e. the Corporation), cocked 
hats and mace, down the High to Magdalene Bridge. 
Here we dismissed the rifle band, the aldermen doffed 
their robes, the bulk of the crowd dispersed, but the 
faithful followed the Mayor in punts across the 
stream, along the Cherwell Meadows, across Christ- 
church Mead by the side of the ditch that runs across 
it, and then entering some house-boats which were 
waiting for us with the ladies on board, we went as 
far as the Long Bridge where the city boundary 
stone is situated. Here we were joined by the king 
of the Selavonians, a club of firemen who are now 
dying out, arrayed in aldermanic costume, with a 
royal crown of 'real gold/ as the ladies all averred, 
upon his head. His Majesty was presented with a 
bottle of gin, whose head he graciously condescended 
to knock off, and then to swallow its contents. 
Bidding adieu to the monarch we again returned, 
bade farewell to the ladies, and punted under those 
arches on which Randall's house stands into the 
Hincksey meadows, through which, muddy as they 
were, we proceeded to pound. We were cheered by 
the merry beat of the city drum the city fife having 
* Letters, pp. 47-48. 


been early 'winded 5 and dropped behind. 'You 
make me quite wild, you do,' said the drum as he 
dragged forward his lagging comrade 3 but the fife was 
too exhausted, or screwed, to reply. At Hincksey 
we found the barrel of beer which the tenant is 
bound to offer the Mayor on such occasions stolen, 
so onwards we trudged towards Godstow, only paus- 
ing at Botley to shy bread and cheese, and pipes and 
ale at the crowd; you may fancy what a glorious 
scramble it was. My party now led 'across country/ 
but getting pounded at the second hedge, I was 
picked up by the alderman who was comfortably 
ensconced in a punt, and conveyed to the dinner at 
Godstow. The feed at an end, off we started again, 
but as the plank-bearers had got too drunk to stir, 
the Mayor had to jump ditches item the mace. 
The Mayor did wonders, and reflected credit on the 
city. The mace made oft acquaintance with the 
mud. So we emerged on Portmeadow, which is a 
perfect quagmire now, only to be paddled through, 
and crossing the two roads descended into the vale 
of the Cherwell, where the aldermen again embarked, 
while I managed to scramble over hedges and ditches 
as best I might, and in a mangled and fragmentary 
condition emerged near Holywell Church, rejoining 
the procession at Magdalene Bridge, and marched 
home to the 'sound of trumpets. 7 As a bit of pluck, 
I finished the evening at the theatre ; but didn't I 
pay for it the next day." 


Mr. Green was deeply interested in Oxford politics. 
A friend recalls how "Green gave me the most 
remarkable account of canvassing Oxford with 
Thackeray, whose want of power of public speaking 
seems to have been perfectly extraordinary. On the 
hustings he utterly broke down, and Green heard 
him say to himself, 'If I could only go into the 
Mayor's parlour for five minutes I could write this 
out quite well/* It was of this election that he 
used to tell the tale of his experience in canvassing. 
There was a certain barge-owner who had, or was 
supposed to have, the command of many votes, and 
it was held necessary to secure his support. Mr. 
Green was sent to interview him, and laid before him 
the loftiest reasons for giving a liberal vote. The 
man heard him to the end, and then silently stretched 
out an open palm. As Mr. Green hesitated, e How 
much is it?' said he. Mr. Green expressed a just 
surprise and repudiation of such a thought. '"Well, 
that's all well enough/ said the man, ' but we knows 
very well what to believe. We reads the papers, and 
we sees what happens in Parliament. When they 
have talked a while, what do they do ? Why, they 
cries Divide ! DiuMe ! Now what do they diwide ? 
Why, the Taxes to be sure ! ' " 

In 1869 and 1870 Mr. Green wrote the two 
papers in the Saturday Review on Modern Oxford 
which are included in this volume. There is a sad 
* Rotes from a Diary, Sir M. E. Grant- Duff, i 112. 


laugh in one of his letters at " the talk and jest of 
young Oxford " ; "I have said hard things of c young 
Oxford/" he says in another letter, "and perhaps 
there are hard things to say, but no one can deny 
there is a great deal of real nobleness and refinement 
of life about it."* "With all its faults of idleness 
and littleness, there is a charm about Oxford which 
tells on one, a certain freshness and independence 
("it has never given itself over to the Philistines," as 
Mat. Arnold says), and besides a certain geniality 
of life such as one doesn't find elsewhere. Perhaps 
its very blunders and one meets a blunder at every 
step if one regards it as a great educational institu- 
tion save it at any rate from falling into the mere 
commonplace of the Daily Telegraph. The real peril 
of our days is not that of being wrong, but of being 
right on wrong grounds j in a liberalism which is a 
mere matter of association and sentiment, and not of 
any consistent view of man in his relation to society ; 
the Liberalism of the daily papers, I mean, and of 
nine-tenths of their readers; a Liberalism which 
enables the Times to plead this morning for despotic 
government in Greece, or Froude to defend the rack. 
And with all its oddities [Oxford] seems to give a 
wide toleration and charity to the social intercourse 
of thinkers ; Comtist and Eomaniser laugh together 
over High Table and are driven, by the logic of fact, 
from the shallow device of avoiding one another as 
'fools' or c madmen. 3 "t 

* Letters, pp. 287, 256, f II. pp. 241-42. 


As Mr. Green's first work was a collection of 
materials for the History of Oxford, so it was one of 
his last occupations. He had filled many note-books 
with details collected from all sorts of sources, and in 
1873 he proposed to prepare a book of "Essays on 
Oxford History 7 '; working in a paper on "Early 
Oxford"; a paper on "Oxford in the Great Re- 
bellion," and another on " Puritan Oxford," and close 
with two long studies on "Oxford Society in the 
Eighteenth Century" and "The Oxford Jacobites," 
taken from the essays written as an undergraduate. 
The last of these he had begun to put into form and 
correct, but the work remains unfinished. I can now, 
therefore, only give these studies in their original 

"When failing health had put an end to all hope of 
his own work on Oxford history being continued, he 
took pleasure in the thought that it might still be 
carried on by the society which he had first planned, 
and which he lived to see inaugurated the Oxford 
Historical Society. 

I have to thank the editors of the Oxford Chronicle^ 
and of the Saturday Revieiv for permission to reprint 
articles from their papers. The Provost of Queen's 
and Mr. Madan kindly allowed the editors of this 
volume to see some notes taken by Mr. Richard 
Robinson and the Rev. John Rigaud. In a few cases 
where these have been used, the initials R. R. or J. R. 
have been added. The initials A. C. indicate a few 
suggestions given by the Rev. Andrew Clark. There 



are a few instances in which it has been found 
impossible to supply the necessary references. I 
hope that some intelligent readers will come to our 
help and fill in the blanks. 


September 1901. 


To most Oxford men, indeed to the common visitor 
of Oxford, the town seems a mere offshoot of the 
University. Its appearance is altogether modern ; 
it presents hardly any monument that can vie in 
antiquity with the venerable fronts of colleges and 
halls. An isolated church here and there tells a 
different tale 5 hut the largest of its parish churches 
is best known as the church of the University, and 
the church of St. Frideswide, which might suggest 
even to a careless observer some idea of the town's 
greatness before University life began, is known to 
most visitors simply as Chris tchurch ChapeL In all 
outer seeming Oxford appears a mere assemblage of 
indifferent streets that have grown out of the needs 
of the University, and this impression is heightened 
by its commercial unimportance. The town has no 
manufacture or trade. It is not even, like Cam- 
bridge, a great agricultural centre. Whatever import- 
ance it derived from its position on the Thames has 
been done away with by the almost total cessation of 
river navigation. Its very soil is in large measure in 


academical hands As a municipality it seems to 
exist only by grace or usurpation of prior University 
privileges. It is not long since Oxford gained control 
over its own markets or its own police. The peace 
of the town is still but partially in the hands of its 
magistrates, and the riotous student is amenable only 
to university jurisdiction. Within the memory of 
living men the chief magistrate of the city on his 
entrance into office was bound to swear in a humiliat- 
ing ceremony not to violate the privileges of the 
great academical body which reigned supreme within 
its walls. 

Historically the very reverse of all this is really 
the case. So far is the University from being older 
than the city, that Oxford had already seen five 
centuries of borough life before a student appeared 
within its streets. Instead of ibs prosperity being 
derived from its connection with the University, 
that connection has probably been its commercial 
ruin. The gradual subjection both of markets and 
trade to the arbitrary control of an ecclesiastical 
corporation was inevitably followed by their ex- 
tinction. The University found Oxford a busy, 
prosperous borough, and reduced it to a cluster of 
lodging-houses. It found it among the first of 
English municipalities, and it so utterly crushed its 
freedom that the recovery of some of the commonest 
rights of self-government has only been brought 
about by recent legislation. Instead of the Mayor 
being a dependant on Chancellor or Vice-Chancellor, 


Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor have simply usurped 
the far older authority of the Mayor. 

The story of the struggle which ended in this 
usurpation is one of the most interesting in our 
municipal annals, and it is one which has left its 
mark not on the town only but on the very constitu- 
tion and character of the conquering University. 
But to understand the struggle, we must first know 
something of the town itself. At the earliest moment, 
then, when its academic history can be said to open, 
afe the arrival of the legist Vacarius in the reign of 
Stephen, Oxford stood in the first rank of English 
municipalities. In spite of antiquarian fancies, it is 
certain that no town had arisen on its site for cen- 
turies after the departure of the E/oman legions from 
the isle of Britain. The little monastery of St. 
Frideswide rises in the turmoil of the eighth century 
only to fade out of sight again without giving us a 
glimpse of the borough which gathered probably 
beneath its walls. The first definite evidence for its 
existence lies in a brief entry of the English Chronicle 
which records its seizure by the successor of Alfred. 
But though the f onn of this entry shows the town to 
have been already considerable, we hear nothing more 
of it till the last terrible wrestle of England with the 
Dane, when its position on the borders of the Mercian 
and West-Saxon realms seems for the moment to have 
given it a political importance under ^Ethelred and 
Cnut strikingly analogous to that which it acquired 
in the Great Rebellion. Of the life of its burgesses 


in this earlier period of Oxford life we know little or 
nothing. The names of its parishes, St. Aldate, St. 
Ebbe, St. Mildred, and St. Edmund, show how early 
church after church gathered round the earlier 
church of St. Martin. The minster of St. Frideswide, 
in becoming the later cathedral, has brought down to 
our own times the memory of the ecclesiastical origins 
to which the little borough owed its existence. But 
the men themselves are dim to us. - Their town- 
meeting, their Portmannimote, still lives in shadowy 
fashion as the Freeman's Common Hall ; their town- 
mead is still Port-meadow. But it is only by later 
charters or the record of Domesday that we see them 
going on pilgrimage to the shrines of Winchester, or 
chaffering in their market-place, or judging and law- 
making in their husting, their merchant guild regu- 
lating trade, their reeve gathering his king's dues of 
tax or honey or marshalling his troop of burghers for 
the king's wars, their boats floating down the Thames 
towards London and paying the toll of a hundred 
herrings in Lent-tide to the Abbot of Abingdon by 
the way. 

Of the conquest of Oxford by William the Norman 
we know nothing, though tho number of its houses 
marked " waste " in the Survey seems to point to a 
desperate resistance. But the ruin was soon repaired. 
No city better illustrates the transformation of the 
land in the hands of its new masters, the sudden out- 
burst of industrial effort, the sudden expansion of 
commerce and accumulation of wealth which followed 


the Conquest. The architectural glory of the town 
in fact dates from the settlement of the Norman 
within its walls. To the west of the town rose one 
of the stateliest of English castles, and in the meadows 
beneath the hardly less stately Abbey of Osney. In 
the fields to the north the last of the Norman kings 
raised his palace of Beaumont. The canons of St. 
Frideswide reared the church which still exists as the 
diocesan cathedral : the piety of the Norman earls 
rebuilt almost all the parish churches of the city and 
founded within their new castle walls the church of 
the canons of St. George. 

But Oxford does more than illustrate this outburst 
of industrial effort; it does something towards ex- 
plaining its cause. The most characteristic result of 
the Conquest was planted in the very heart of the 
town in the settlement of the Jew. Here as else- 
where the Jewry was a town within a town, with its 
own language, its own religion and law, its peculiar 
commerce, frs peculiar dress. The policy of our 
foreign kings secured each Hebrew settlement from 
the common taxation, the common justice, the common 
obligations of Englishmen. No city bailiff could 
penetrate into the square of little streets which lay 
behind the present Town-hall ; the Church itself was 
powerless against the synagogue that rose in haughty 
rivalry beside the cloister of St. Fridcswide. The 
picture which Scott has given us in IranJwe of 
Isaac of York, timid, silent, crouching under 
oppression, accurately as it represents our modern 


notions of the position of his race during the Middle 
Ages, is far from being borne out by historical fact. 
In England at least the attitude of the Jew is almost 
to the end an attitude of proud and even insolent 
defiance. His extortion was sheltered from the 
common law. His bonds were kept under the royal 
seal. A royal commission visited with heavy penalties 
any outbreak of violence against these " chattels " of 
the king. The thunders of the Church broke vainly 
on the yellow gaberdine of the Jew. In a well-known 
story of Eadmer's the Red King actually forbids the 
conversion of a Jew to the Christian faith : it was a 
poor exchange which would have robbed him of a 
valuable property and given him only a subject. 

At Oxford the attitude of the Jewry towards the 
national religion showed a marked consciousness of 
this royal protection. Prior Philip of St Frideswide 
complains bitterly of a certain Hebrew with the odd 
name of "Deus-cum-crescat," who stood at his door 
as the procession of the saint passed by, mocking at 
the miracles wrought at her shrine. Halting and 
then walking firmly on his feet, showing his hands 
clenched as if with palsy and then flinging open his 
fingers, the mocking Jew claimed gifts and oblations 
from the crowd who flocked to St. Frideswide's on 
the ground that such recoveries of limb and strength 
wore quite as real us any Frido.swide hail wrought. 
But though sickness and death, in the prior's stay, 
avenge the insult to his shrine, no earthly power, 
ecclesiastical or civil, seems to have ventured to 


meddle with " Deus-cum-crescat." The feud between 
the priory and the Jewry went on unchecked for a 
century more, to culminate in a daring act of fanaticism 
on the Ascension-day of 1268. As the usual pro- 
cession of scholars and citizens returned from St. 
Frideswide's, a Jew suddenly burst from the group of 
his comrades in front of the synagogue, and snatching 
the crucifix from its bearer trod it under foot. But 
even in presence of such an outrage as this the terror 
of the Crown shielded the Jewry from any burst of 
popular indignation. The sentence of the king con- 
demned the Jews of Oxford to erect a cross of marble 
on the spot where the ciime was committed; but 
even this was remitted in part, and a less offensive 
place was allotted for the cross in an open plot by 
Merton College. 

With the Jewish settlement began the cultivation 
of physical science in Oxford. The Hebrew instruc- 
tion, the Hebrew books which he found among its 
rabbis, were the means by which Eoger Bacon pene- 
trated to the older world of material research. A 
medical school which we find established there a-nd 
in high repute during the twelfth century can hardly 
have been other than Jewish : in the operation for 
the stone, which one of the stories in the Miracles of 
SL Frideswide preserves for us, we trace the tradi- 
tional surgery which is still common in the East. 
But it is perhaps in a more purely material way that 
the Jewry at Oxford most directly influenced our 
academical history. There as elsewhere the Jew 


brought with him something more than the art or 
science which he had gathered at Cordova or Bagdad; 
he brought with him the new power of wealth. The 
erection of stately castles, of yet statelier abbeys, 
which followed the Conquest, the rebuilding of 
almost every cathedral or conventual church, marks 
the advent of the Jewish capitalist. No one can 
study the earlier history of our great monastic houses 
without finding the secret of that sudden outburst of 
industrial activity to which we owe the noblest of our 
minsters in the loans of the Jew. The bonds of 
many a great baron, the relics of many an abbey, 
lay pledged for security in the " Star-chamber " of 
the Jew. 

His arrival at Oxford is marked by the military 
and ecclesiastical erections of its Norman earls. But 
a result of his presence, which bore more directly on 
the future of the town, was seen in the remarkable 
development of its domestic architecture. To the 
wealth of the Jew, to his need of protection against 
sudden outbursts of popular passion, very probably 
to the greater refinement of his social life, England 
owes the introduction of stone houses. Tradition 
attributes almost every instance of tho earliest stone 
buildings of a domestic character to the Jew; and 
where the tradition can be tested, as at Bury St. 
Edmunds or Lincoln, it has proved to be in accord- 
ance with the facts. In Oxford nearly all the larger 
dwelling-houses which were subsequently converted 
into halls bore traces of their Jewish origin in their 


namos, such as Moysey's Hall, Lombards', Jacob's 
Hall. It is a striking proof of the superiority of the 
Hebrew dwellings to the Christian houses around 
them that each of the successive town-halls of the 
borough had, before their expulsion, been houses of 
Jews. Such houses were abundant in the town, not 
merely in the purely Jewish quarter on Carfax but 
in the lesser Jewry which was scattered over the 
parish of St. Aldate ; and we can hardly doubt that 
this abundance of substantial buildings in the town 
was at least one of the causes which drew teachers 
and students within its walls. 

The same great event which flung down the Jewish 
settlement in the very heart of the English town 
bounded it to the west by the castle and the abbey of 
the conquerors, Oxford stood first on the line of 
great fortresses which, passing by Wallingford and 
Windsor to the Tower of London, guarded the course 
of the Thames. Its castellan, Eobert D'Oilly, had 
followed William from Normandy and had fought by 
his side at Senlac. Oxfordshire was committed by 
the Conqueror to his charge ; and he seems to have 
ruled it in rude, soldierly fashion, enforcing order, 
heaping up riches, tripling the taxation of the town, 
pillaging without scruple the older religious houses 
of the neighbourhood. It was only by ruthless ex- 
action such as this that the work which William had 
set him to do could be clone. Money was needed 
above all for the groat fortress which held the town. 
The new castle rose on the eastern bank of the 


Thames, broken here into a number of small stream- 
lets, one of which served as the deep moat which 
encircled its walls. A well marked the centre of the 
wide castle-court ; to the north of it on a lofty mound 
rose the great keep ; to the west the one tower which 
remains, the tower of St. George, frowned over the 
river and the mill. Without the walls of the fortress 
lay the Bailly, a space cleared by the merciless policy 
of the castellan, with the church of St. Peter le Bailly 
which still marks its extent. 

The hand of Robert D'Oilly fell as heavily on the 
Church as on the townsmen. Outside the town lay 
a meadow belonging to the Abbey of Abingdon, 
which seemed suitable for the exercise of the soldiers 
of his garrison. The earl was an old plunderer of 
the Abbey ; he had wiled away one of its finest 
manors from its Abbot Athelm; but his seizure of 
the meadow beside Oxford drove the monks to 
despair. Night and day they threw themselves 
weeping before the altar of the two English saints 
whose names were linked to the older glories of their 
house. But while they invoked the vengeance of 
Dunstan and .^Ethelwold on their plunderer, the 
earl, fallen sick, tossed fever-smitten on his bed. At 
last Robert dreamt that he stood in a vast court, one 
of a crowd of nobles gathered round a throne whereon 
sate a lady passing fair. Before her knelt two 
brethren of the abbey, weeping for the loss of their 
mead and pointing out the castellan as the robber. 
The lady bade Robert bo seized, and two youths 


hurried Mm away to the field itself, seated him on 
the ground, piled burning hay around him, smoked 
him, tossed hay bands in his face, and set fire to his 
beard. The earl woke trembling at the divine 
discipline ; he at once took boat for Abingdon, and 
restored to the monks the meadow he had reft from 
them. His terror was not satisfied by the restitu- 
tion of his plunder, and he returned to set about the 
restoration of the ruined churches within and with- 
out the walls of Oxford. The tower of St. Michael, 
the doorway of St. Ebbe, the chtincel arch of Holy- 
well, the crypt and chancel of St. Peter's-in-the-East, 
are fragments of the work done by Robert and his 
house. But the great monument of the devotion of 
the D'Oillys rose beneath tho walls of their castle. 
Robert, a nephew of the first castellan, had wedded 
Edith, a concubine of Henry L The rest of the story 
we may tell in the English of Leland. "Edith used 
to walke out of Oxford Castelle with her gentle- 
women to solace, and that oftentymes where yn a 
certen place in a tree, as often as she cam, a certain 
pyes used to gather to it, and ther to chattre, and as 
it were to spek on to her, Edyth much mervelyng at 
this matter, and was sumtyme sore ferid by it as by 
a wonder." Radulf, a canon of St. Frides wide's, was 
consulted on the marvel, and his counsel ended in 
the erection of the priory of Osney beneath the walls 
of the castle. The foundation of the D'Oillys be- 
came one of tne wealthiest and largest of the English 
abbeys; but of its vast church and lordly abbot's 


house, the great quadrangle of its cloisters, the alms- 
houses without its gate, the pleasant walks shaded 
with stately elms beside the river, not a trace re- 
mains. Its bells alone were saved at the Dissolution 
by their transfer to Christchurch. 

The military strength of the castle of the D'Oillys 
was tested in the struggle between Stephen and the 
Empress. Driven from London by a rising of its 
burghers at the very moment when the crown seemed 
within her grasp, Maud took refuge at Oxford. In 
the succeeding year Stephen found himself strong 
enough to attack his rival in her stronghold; his 
knights swam the river, fell hotly on the garrison 
which had sallied without the walls to meet them, 
chased them through the gates, and rushed pell-mell 
with the fugitives into the city. Houses weie burnt 
and the Jewry sacked; the Jews, if tradition is to 
be trusted, were forced to raise against the castle 
the work that still bears the name of " Jews' Mount " ; 
but the strength of its walls foiled the efforts of the 
besiegers, and the attack died into a close blockade. 
Maud was however in Stephen's grasp, and neither 
the loss of other fortresses nor the rigour of the 
winter could tear the king from his prey. Despair- 
ing of relief, the Empress at last resolved to break 
through the enemy's lines. Every stream was frozen 
and the earth covered with snow, when clad in white 
and with three knights in white garments as her 
attendants Maud passed unobserved through the 
outposts, crossed the Thames upon the ice, and 


made her way to Abingdon and the fortress of 

With the surrender which followed the military 
history of Oxford ceases till the Great Bebellion. 
Its political history had still to attain its highest 
reach in the Parliament of De Montfort. The great 
assemblies held at Oxford under Cnut, Stephen, and 
Henry III., are each memorable in their way. With 
the first closed the struggle between Englishman and 
Dane, with the second closed the conquest of the 
Norman, with the third began the regular progress 
of constitutional liberty. The position of the town, 
on the border between the England that remained 
to the West-Saxon kings and the England that had 
become the " Danelagh " of their northern assailants, 
had from the first pointed it out as the place where a 
union between Dane and Englishman could best be 
brought about. The first attempt was foiled by the 
savage treachery of JSthelred the Unready. The 
death of Swegen and the return of Cnut to Denmark 
left an opening for a reconciliation, and Englishmen 
and Danes gathered at Oxford round the king. But 
all hope was foiled by the assassination of the Law- 
men of tho Seven Danish Boroughs, Sigeferth and 
Morcar, who fell at a banquet by the hand of the 
minister Eadric, while their followers threw them- 
selves into the tower of St. Frideswide and perished 
in the flames that consumed it. The overthrow of 
the English monarchy avenged the treason. But 
Cnut was of nobler stuff than ^thelred, and his 


conquest of the realm was followed by the gathering 
of a new gemot at Oxford to resume the work of re- 
conciliation which Eadric had interrupted. English- 
man and Dane agreed to live together as one people 
under Eadgar's Law, and the wise government of 
the King completed in the long years of his reign 
the task of national fusion. The conquest of William 
set two peoples a second time face to face upon the 
same soil, and it was again at Oxford that by his 
solemn acceptance and promulgation of the Charter 
of Henry I. in solemn parliament Stephen closed the 
period of military tyranny, and began the union of 
Norman and Englishman into a single people. These 
two great acts of national reconciliation were fit pre- 
ludes for the work of the famous assembly which 
has received from its enemies the name of " the Mad 
Parliament." In the June of 1258 the barons met 
at Oxford under earl Simon de Montfort to commence 
the revolution to which we owe our national liberties. 
Followed by long trains of men in arms arid sworn 
together by pledges of mutual fidelity, they wrested 
from Henry III. the great reforms which, frustrated 
for the moment, have become the basis of our con- 
stitutional system. On the " Provisions of Oxford " 
followed the regular establishment of parliamentary 
representation and power, of a popular and re- 
sponsible ministry, of the principle of local self- 

From parliaments and sieges, from Jew and cas- 
tellan, it is time to turn back to the humbler annals 


of the town itself. The first event that lifts it into 
historic prominence is its league with London. The 
"bargemen" of the borough seem to have already 
existed before the Conquest, and to have been closely 
united from the first with the more powerful guild, 
the " boatmen " or " merchants " of the capital In 
both cases it is probable that the bodies bearing 
this name represented what in later language was 
known as the merchant guild of the town ; the 
original association, that is, of its principal traders 
for purposes of mutual protection, of commerce, and 
of self-government. Royal recognition enables us to 
trace the merchant guild of Oxford from the time of 
Henry I. ; even then indeed lands, islands, pastures 
already belonged to it, and amongst them the same 
"Port- meadow" or "Town-mead" so familiar to 
Oxford men pulling lazily on a summer's noon to 
Godstow, and which still remains the property of the 
freemen of the town. The connection between the 
two cities and their guilds was primarily one of 
traffic. Prior even to the Conquest, " in the time of 
King Eadward and Abbot Ordric," the channel of the 
river running beneath the walls of the Abbey of 
Abingdon became so blocked up "that boats could 
scarce pass as far as Oxford." It was at the joint 
prayer of the burgesses of London and Oxford that 
the abbot dug a new channel through the meadow to 
the south of his church, the two cities engaging that 
each barge should pay a toll of a hundred herrings 
on its passage during Lent. But the union soon took 


a constitutional form. The earliest charter of the 
capital which remains in detail is that of Henry L, 
and from the charter of his grandson we find a similar 
date assigned to the liberties of Oxford. The customs 
and exemptions of its burghers are granted by Henry 
IL, " as ever they enjoyed them in the time of King 
Henry my grandfather, and in like manner as my 
citizens of London hold them." This identity of 
municipal privileges is of course common to many 
other boroughs, for the charter of London became 
the model for half the charters of the kingdom ; 
what is peculiar to Oxford is the federal bond which 
in Henry IL's time already linked the two cities 
together. In case of any doubt or contest about 
judgment in their own court the burgesses of Oxford 
were empowered to refer the matter to the decision 
of London, " and whatever the citizens of London 
shall adjudge in such cases shall be deemed right." 
The judicial usages, the municipal rights of each city 
were assimilated by Henry's charter. " Of whatever 
matter they shall be put in plea, they shall deraign 
themselves according to the law and customs of the 
city of London and not otherwise, because they and 
the citizens of London are of one and the same 
custom, law, and liberty." 

In no two cities has municipal freedom experienced 
a more different fate than in the two that were so 
closely bound together. The liberties of London 
waxed greater and greater till they were lost in the 
general freedom of the realm : those of Oxford wore 


trodden under foot till the city stood almost alone in 
its bondage among the cities of England. But it 
would have been hard for a burgher of the twelfth 
century, flushed with the pride of his new charter, or 
fresh from the scene of a coronation where he had 
stood side by side with the citizens of London and 
Winchester as representing one of the chief cities 
of the realm, to have dreaded any danger to the 
liberties of his borough from the mob of half-starved 
boys who were beginning to pour year after year 
into the town. The wealthy merchant who passed 
the group of shivering students huddled round a 
teacher as poor as themselves in porch and doorway, 
or dropped his alms into the cap of the mendicant 
scholar, could hardly discern that beneath rags and 
poverty lay a power greater than the power of kings, 
the power for which Becket had died and which 
bowed Henry to penance and humiliation. On all 
but its eastern side indeed the town was narrowly 
hemmed in by jurisdictions independent of its own. 
The precincts of the Abbey of Osney, the wide bailly 
of the castle, bounded it narrowly on the west. To 
the north, stretching away to the little church of St. 
Giles, lay the fields of the royal manor of Beaumont. 
The Abbot of Abingdon, whose woods of Cumnor 
and Bagley closed the southern horizon, held his leet 
court in the small hamlet of Grampound beyond the 
bridge. Nor was the whole space within its walls 
altogether subject to the self-government of the 
citizens. The Jewry, a town within a town, lay 


isolated and exempt from the common justice or law 
in the very heart of the borough. Scores of house- 
holders, dotted over the various streets, were tenants 
of abbey or castle, and paid neither suit nor service 
to the city court. But within these narrow bounds 
and amidst these various obstacles the spirit of 
municipal liberty lived a life the more intense that 
it was so closely cabined and confined, 

It was in fact at the moment when the first Oxford 
students appeared within its walls that the city 
attained complete independence. The twelfth cen- 
tury, the age of the Crusades, of the rise of the 
scholastic philosophy, of the renewal of classical 
learning, was also the age of a great communal move- 
ment, that stretched from Italy along the Ehone and 
the Rhine, the Seine and the Somme, to England. 
The same great revival of individual, human life in 
the industrial masses of the feudal world that hurried 
half Christendom to the Holy Land, or gathered 
hundreds of eager faces round the lecture-stall of 
Abelard, beat back Barbarossa from the walls of 
Alessandria and nerved the burghers of Northern 
France to struggle as at Amiens for liberty. In 
England the same spirit took a milder and perhaps 
more practical form, from the different social and 
political conditions with which it had to deal. The 
quiet townships of Teutonic England had no tradi- 
tions of a Roman past to lure them on, like the cities 
of Italy, into dreams of sovereignty. Their ruler was 
no foreign Csesar, distant enough to give a chance for 


resistance, but a king near at hand and able to 
enforce obedience and law. The king's peace shielded 
them from that terrible oppression of the mediaeval 
baronage which made liberty with the cities of 
Germany a matter of life or death. The peculiarity 
of municipal life in fact in England is that instead of 
standing apart from and in contrast with the general 
life around it the progress of the English town moved 
in perfect harmony with that of the nation at large. 
The earlier burgher was the freeman within the walls, 
as the peasant- ceorl was the freeman without. Free- 
dom went with the possession of land in town as in 
country. The citizen held his burgher's rights by his 
tenure of the bit of ground on which his tenement 
stood. Ho was the king's free tenant, and like the 
rural tenants he owed his lord dues of money or 
kind. In township or manor alike the king's reeve 
gathered this rental, administered justice, commanded 
the little troop of soldiers that the spot was bound to 
furnish in time of war. The progress of municipal 
freedom, like that of national freedom, was wrought 
rather by the slow growth of wealth and of popular 
spirit, by the necessities of kings, by the policy of a 
few great statesmen, than by the sturdy revolts that 
wrested liberty from the French seigneur or the 
century of warfare that broke the power of the 
Caesars in the plain of the Po. 

Much indeed that Italy or France had to win by 
the sword was already the heritage of every English 
freeman within walls or without. The common 


assembly in which their own public affairs were 
discussed and decided, the borough-mote to which 
every burgher was summoned by ttre town -bell 
swinging out of the town-tower, had descended by 
traditional usage from the customs of the first English 
settlers in Britain. The close association of the 
burghers in the sworn brotherhood of the guild 
was a Teutonic custom of immemorial antiquity. 
Gathered at the guild sapper round the common 
fire, sharing the common meal, and draining the 
guild cup, the burghers added to the tie of mere 
neighbourhood that of loyal association, of mutual 
counsel, of mutual aid. The regulation of internal 
trade, all lesser forms of civil jurisdiction, fell quietly 
and without a struggle into the hands of the merchant 
guild. The rest of their freedom was bought with 
honest cash. The sale of charters brought money to 
the royal treasury, exhausted by Norman wars, by 
the herd of mercenaries, by Crusades, by the struggle 
with France. The towns bought first the commuta- 
tion of the uncertain charges to which they were 
subject at the royal will for a fixed annual rent. 
Their purchase of the right of internal justice fol- 
lowed. Last came the privilege of electing their own 
magistrates, of enjoying complete self-government. 
Oxford had already passed through the earlier steps 
of this emancipation before the conquest of the 
Norman. Her citizens assembled in their Port- 
mannimote, their free self-ruling assembly. Their 
merchant-guild leagued with that of London. Their 


dues to the Crown are assessed in Domesday at a 
fixed sum of honey and coin. The charter of Henry 
II. marks the acquisition by Oxford, probably at a 
far earlier date, of judicial and commercial freedom. 
Liberty of external commerce was given by the ex- 
emption of its citizens from toll on the king's lands ; 
the decision of either political or judicial affairs was 
left to their borough-mote. The highest point of 
municipal independence was reached when the Charter 
of John substituted a mayor of their own choosing 
for the mere bailiff of the Crown. 

It is hard in dry constitutional details such as 
these to realize the quick pulse of popular life that 
stirred such a community as Oxford. Only a few 
names, of street and lane, a few hints gathered from 
obscure records, enable one to see the town of the 
twelfth or thirteenth century. The Church of St. 
Martin in the very heart of it, at the " Quatrevoix " 
or Carfax where its four roads meet, was the centre 
of the city's life. The Town-mote was held in its 
churchyard. Justice was administered by mayor and 
bailiff sitting beneath the low shed, the "penniless 
bench " of later times, without its eastern wall. Its 
bell summoned the burghers to counsel or to arms. 
Around the church lay the trade-guilds, ranged as in 
some vast encampment ; Spicery and Vintnery to 
the south, Fish Street falling noisily down to the 
Bridge, the corn market occupying then as now 
the street which led to Northgate, the stalls of the 
butchers ranged in their "Butcher-row" along the 


road to the castle. Close beneath the church to the 
south-east lay a nest of huddled lanes broken by a 
stately synagogue and traversed from time to time by 
the yellow gaberdine of the Jew, whose burying-place 
lay far away to the eastward on the site of the 
present Botanic Garden Soldiers from the castle 
rode clashing through the narrow streets; the bells 
of Osney clanged from the swampy meadows long 
processions of pilgrims wound past the Jewry to the 
shrine of Saint Frideswide. It was a rough time, 
and frays were common enough, now the sack of a 
Jew's house, now burgher drawing knife on burgher, 
now an outbreak of the young student lads, who 
grew every day in numbers and audacity. But as 
yet the town seemed well in hand. The clang of the 
city bell called every citizen to his door, the summons 
of fche mayor brought trade after trade with bow in 
hand and banners flying to enforce the king's peace. 
Order and freedom seemed absolutely secure, and 
there was no sign which threatened that century of 
disorder, of academical and ecclesiastical usurpation, 
which humbled the municipal freedom of Oxford to 
the dust. 



WE have hifcheito endeavoured to review, with as 
much regard for chronological arrangement as was 
possible, the more prominent features of our Oxford 
history during the greater part of the eighteenth 
century. But such a detail, however interesting in 
itself, can necessarily give us but little insight into 
the Oxford of the time, into its habits and social 
life, its sympathies and prejudices, its moral in- 
fluences, its educational position and utility. Nor 
can we guess at these things by any comparison 
with, or inference drawn from, the corresponding 
facts of the present day. For between this age and 
the last "a great gulf is fixed." It is almost im- 
possible, without special study, to throw oneself 
into communion with the age of the first two 
Georges to feel as though its men and women were 
of real flesh and blood, and not mere marionettes, 
whom an adroit hand is putting through fictitious 
bows and imaginary minuets. In the moral history 
of the world the last century l is not of necessity a 


hundred years nearer us than its predecessor. Just 
as infancy, spite of the lapse of years that intervenes, 
is really nearer than manhood to that second child- 
hood, a garrulous old age, so in the history of man- 
kind, instead of a constant, uuintermitted advance, 
we see the ages of the past recurring in a myste- 
rious alternation, each, viewed by itself, seeming but 
the gulf that parts two alike in all but time, till a 
wider retrospect shows us that this age of severance 
has its counterpart too and that the alternation is 
not an exception but a law. 

And thus it is that we instinctively feel the great, 
the immeasurable distance that severs this age, so 
proud of its truth, its earnestness, its energy, its 
high and noble aims, from the heartlessness, the in- 
difference, the frivolity in one word, the utter 
worldliness of the eighteenth century. Were one of 
us, falling asleep in the nineteenth, to wake an 
Englishman of the sixteenth century, to don his ruff, 
his short cloak, buff jerkin, and trunk hose, he would 
find little novel, save his costume, or strange in those 
who thronged the streets of the time of Queen Bess 
save their "prythee's" and canary. The two cen- 
turies have common sympathies, common ideas, 
common aims. Drake is but the prototype of 
Nelson or Franklin, Sydney of Havelock, Rileigh of 
the emigrant or goldseeker of to-day. But fall 
asleep once more and wake two centuries nearer, 
as chronologists have it in the age of the Georges. 
Sally forth m well-combed peruke, gold-laced coat, 


arid silver shoe-buckles into Pall Mall or Merton 
Walks, and bow gracefully to the Delias and Phyllises 
that swim past you in their hoops and huge head- 
dresses, with a leer on their painted faces, and a 
roguish flutter of their fans. Chat with one of those 
gay beaux, all lace and perfumes, who are dangling 
their amber-headed canes with the true supercilious 
vacancy of men of the mode ! Why so silent? Sir 
Fopling is voluble enough, can chat of to-morrow's 
masquerade, the intrigues of Lady Dash, or the 
latest epigram of George Selwyn ; he will rally you 
on your "blues," rattle over the frolic of last night, 
how they smoked a country squire, carried off an 
actress, or knocked down a watchman. Or per- 
chance should you be dumb he will turn with a 
charming ease to themes of graver import, though 
treated with as light an air; will demolish Chris- 
tianity with a jest, and quote Toland for a sarcasm 
on " superstition." 

We are about then to endeavour, before resinning 
the detail of events during the latter years of the last 
century, to rebuild from the few facts which we have 
been enabled to collect, this Oxford of the first 
Georges; to see what men lived then, and what 
manner of life theirs was; to listen to their dispu- 
tations, to smoke a pipe of "Virginia with them in 
the common-room, or chat over a bowl of punch in 
the coffee-house; 1 in short, it is our purpose to give 
as full an account as we are able of the social, the 
political, the religious and the educational state of 


Oxford during the greater part of the eighteenth 

"I cannot but fancy," writes one of Swift's 
correspondents, "if one of our heads were dis- 
sected, after passing a winter's campaign in town, it 
would appear just like a pamphlet shop ; you would 
see a collection of treaties, a bundle of farces, a parcel 
of encomiums, another of satires, speeches, novels, 
sermons, loose songs, addresses, epigrams, procla- 
mations, poems, divinity lectures, quack bills, histori- 
cal accounts, fables, and God knows what." 1 Just such 
a medley as Lord Bathurst discovered in the head of a 
man of fashion, makes up the Oxford of the last cen- 
tury. It is in the most primary sense an "universitas," 
its little microcosm represents faithfully, though in 
miniature, every purpose, aim, or fancy of the world 
without, but it is without order or arrangement; 
there exists no centre round which these tendencies 
may group themselves ; religion has dwindled down 
to a roll-call, and education may be found anywhere 
save in the lecture-room. In spite of the imposing 
ceremonies that attest its greatness, in spite of past 
traditions and present pretensions, it might bo said 
of the University as "was indeed said of it in fulsome 
eulogy "we seek in yain for Oxford in Oxford." 2 
Great architectural efforts were being made, noble build- 
ings were every day rising around, but to those who 
looked in all their costly display for learning and piety, 
the University resembled the Jewin Addison's simile 
"a toad squatting among the ruins of a mighty temple." 


For this " aggregation of atoms," however, one 
centre still existed, one focus to which all resorted, a 
little University within the University. I mean the 
coffee-house. The first introduction of this bever- 
age into Oxford had been made by a Jew, who, in 
the year 1650, had offered it for sale at the Angel, 
in St. Peter-in-the-East, where "by some that de- 
lighted in Noveltie," Anthony a Wood says, "it was 
drank." l But its progress had been rapid ; a brother 
antiquary, Aubrey, testifies to * e the modern advantage 
of coffee-houses in this great city, before which 
men knew not how to be acquainted, but with their 
own relations or societies." 2 Tom Warton in his 
( panegyricjon Oxford ale could soon sing of 

The coffee-house 

OF James or Juggins, where the grateful breath 
Of loathed tobacco ne'er diffused its balm : 
But the lewd spendthrift falsely deemed polite, 
While steams aiound the fragrant Indian bowl, 
Oft damns the vulgar sons of humbler ale * 

And in 1759 we find an advertisement in the Oxford 
Journal for that year, which reveals the price of the 
beverage and the number of its vendois. "April 
13th, 1759, The Masters of Coffee-houses in Oxford 
find themselves under the disagreeable necessity of 
acquainting their customers that by the late addi- 
tional duties on Coffee and Chocolate, together with 
the advanced price of those commodities, occasioned 
by their present scarcity, they shall be obliged to 
advance the price of Chocolate from four-pence to 


five-pence per dish, and Coffee from four-pence to 
five-pence a pot. Signed, James Horseman, Charles 
King, Eliz. Coombes, Hobson, Thomas Hadley, 
John King, Thomas Browne, Thomas Roberson, 
William Harper, John Bullock." 1 One exception, 
however, occurs to this unanimity, for Mrs. Anne 
Blowfield, of the George Coffee House, announces, 
in a counter advertisement, that she does not join 
in the rise. 2 The same names, with but one addi- 
tion, are met with in Warton's Newsman's Verses 
for 1770, when entreating entertainment ho apos- 

Ye too, whose houses are so handy 

For coffee, tea, rum, wine, and brandy : 

Pride of fair Oxford's gaudy streets, 

You, too, our strain submissive greets t 

Hear, Horseman, Spmdlow, King, and Harpci 

The weather, sure, was never sharper ! 

Here it is that all meet, the pedant, the wit, the 
rake, and the gamester. At the door lounges "a 
man of Fire" as he terms himself, "a Slicer," 
"Towrow," "Blood," "Buck," as he is called by the 
rest of the world, with a loud triumphant "she 
blues " for the passing seamstress that blushes at his 
coarse buffoonery, a scurvy jest for the threadbare 
servitor, who scared from entrance by the terrible 
score in the bar hangs about the door, ready to 
barter a catch or song for a pint of ale, and a low 
bow for the "smart fellow" who saunters in with 
red stockings and elaborate peruke conning over a 


sonnet for tlie reigning toast, whose health has been 
sung from Headington to Hincksey. A deeper 
obeisance still he reserves for the fellow-commoner 
who struts by, freed from the drudgery of lectures 
or chapel by the golden tuft in the velvet cap, at 
once badge of honour and apology for ignorance 
the magnet that draws in its train that crowd of the 
shabbily-genteel toadeaters, ready at his call to 
"breakfast, dine, or sup with him, as he pleases; to 
drink with him, rake with him, borrow his money, 
or let him pay tho reckoning."' 1 Dick Loungeit poor 
devil rather envies these fortunate toadies ; falling 
into a reverie, whence he is awakened by that boon 
companion Toni Buck, who, having brought the 
repute of knowing every London vice from West- 
minster, is determined to leave behind him at Oxford 
the additional fame of seeing every comrade under 
the table. He has already tossed off his morning 
tankard at the Magpie, and is come now to the 
Coffee-house, partly for the Tory news, for Tory 
Tom is to the backbone ever since he learnt, on His 
arrival, that Tories drank deepest and swore loudest, 
partly to plan over his claret a debauch for to- 
morrow or a trip to the Paradise of town. The 
noise of these two topers wonderfully disturbs Dr. 
Dry in his perusal of the Monitor, spite of his eager- 
ness to return to pipe and common-room with the 
news of the Grand Monarque or the Great Mogul. 
There arc others waiting for the Monitor one in 
particular, to whom we owe so much for the dry 


notes in which he has handed down that age to us 
Esquire Beadell, Mr. Hearne, 1 is there, big mouthed, 
with set obstinate face and inquisitive eye, hair 
scornful of wig flowing to his shoulders, and ink- 
stained hands spreading over his unbuttoned slovenly 
waistcoat, chatting with Browne Willis over Grieves's 
great work on the k Roman Denarius," or the com- 
parative antiquity of Oxford and Cambridge 2 

There is a stir however in the coffee-room now. 
Topers, doctors, and antiquaries are making their 
way collegewards, for it is close upon twelve o'clock, 
and twelve during the earlier part of the eighteenth 
century was the dinner hour. "Time," says De 
Quincey, in a most ingenious essay on this subject, 
" has very little connexion with the idea of dinner. 
It has travelled through every hour, like the hand 
of a clock, from ten in the morning till ten at night." 
He might have pushed the hour hand still further 
back. "Bise at five, dine at nine," says the old 
French proverb, and one traditional cause of Louis 
the Twelfth's death was his change of dinner hour 
from eight to twelve, in compliment to his young 
English bride. But the century which we are at 
present engaged with was the epoch of Dinners 
greatest advance. The He volution of 1688 brought 
with its other "glorious" consequences a march of 
the dinner hour to two the Eebellion of 1745 marks 
its progress to four. But, at the beginning of this 
century, Oxford was on this point in the rear of the 
metropolis. Even in 1732, when Queen Caroline 


sends a "buck to Magdalen, the dinner at which it 
appears is at 10 A.M. 1 Each advance was made 
amidst grumblings from the older and more conser- 
vative members. *" University disputations," growls 
Hearne in his diary, 3 "began on Ash "Wednesday 
at two and after, instead of at one; occasioned by 
several colleges altering the hour of dinner from eleven 
to twelve, from people's lying in bed longer than they 
used to do." " It hath been an old custom," he writes 
in 1723, "for the scholars of all houses on Shrove 
Tuesday to go to dinner at ten o'clock, at which time 
the little bell, called pancake-bell, rings, or at least 
should ring, at St. Maries, and at 4 in the afternoon ; 
and it was always followed in Edmund Hall as long 
as I have been in Oxford till yesterday, when they 
went to dinner at twelve and to supper at six. 
Nor were there any fritters at dinner as there used 
always to be. When laudable old customs alter 'tis 
a sign learning dwindles 1 " 3 How horrorstruck would 
he have been had he seen the great move in 1804, 4 
1805, when those colleges that had dined at three 
advanced to four, those that had dined at four to five ! 


" OXFORD," sings Spenser, 

That fair city wherein make abode 
So many learned imps that shoot abroad 
And with their branches spread all Britamy 
No less than do her elder sister's brood 
Joy to you both, ye double nursery 
Of arts, but Oxford, thee doth Thame most glorify. 

We have seen these "learned imps" assembled at 
their common rendezvous, the coifee-house, but to 
form any notion of the social aspect of the Oxford 
of the day it will be necessary for us if our readers 
be not already weary of the subject to follow them 
to their college homes, to dwell a little on their 
manners and discipline, their fashions and habits, 
their amusements and extravagances, while in suc- 
ceeding papers we may do our best to complete the 
picture by some slight account of their educational 
and religious position. 

We have seen the servitor waiting without the 
coffee-house, in fear to enter ; and were we to follow 
him home to his college we should find him ready 


to perform, as menial offices for Ms daily subsistence 
as he was then for a tankard of ale. The servitor 
was even now beginning to clash with the spirit of 
the place; he was practically an anachronism, the 
last relic of that great church system which, whether 
purposely or no, seemed to love the elevation of the 
very meanest to the same or a higher level than the 
princes and nobles of the day by the mere ladder 
of learning, the system which raised Becket to 
Canterbury, and Wykeham to Winchester. He was 
usually a lad of low extraction, but of promising 
parts, who came fresh from the taproom or the 
plough not as now, to take his station among 
equals, but by menial offices to earn that instruction 
which the University could afford. Sometimes the 
young country squire brought him up with him 
from the country, oftener he came up alone, seeking 
only to be quartered upon some wealthier student. 
He lived generally within call ; when Erasmus for a 
time taught at Cambridge, his servitor's room, 
Aubrey notes, was close above his at Queens'. 1 
He was wholly at his master's command, and some- 
times at his mistress's. Willis, who afterwards ac- 
quired such fame and wealth through his discovery 
of tho chalybeate properties of A strop Wells, "was 
first servitor," says Aubrey in his memoirs of him, 2 
"to Dr. lies, one of the Canons of Christ Church, 
whose wife was i knowing woman in physic and 
surgery, and did many cures. Tom Willis then wore 
a blue livery cloak and studied at the lower end of 


the hall, by the hall dore ; was pretty handy, and 
his mistresse would oftentimes have him to assist her 
in making of medicines. This did him no hurt, and 
allured him on." The knowledge which the half- 
educated boy thus picked up gave him a superiority 
over his less fortunate companions, of which he 
would sometimes mischievously avail himself. "When 
one of our earliest mathematicians 1 was counted an 
astrologer by the populace, "his servitor, to impose 
on freshmen and simple people, would tell them 
that sometimes he should meet the spirits comeing 
up his stakes like bees." 

It need not, however, be supposed that in these 
services there was anything to humiliate or degrade 
them. In many the position resolved itself into a 
mere change of place. "When the afterwards not- 
able Sir John Birkenhead entered as a servitor at 
Oriel, his brother was a common trooper. 2 Bishop 
Eobinson was sent up through the kindness of his 
patron from the plough. 3 Whitefield was the son 
of a tavern-keeper at Gloucester, and to quote his own 
words, "I put on my blue apron and my snuffers/ 1 " 
washed mops, cleared rooms, and in one word be- 
came professed and common drawer for nigh a year 
and a half," at the expiration of which time his 
mother hears that there is a possibility of admission 
at Pembroke and enters him there as a servitor. 4 Of 

y So the word is printed in his own account. It may be a 
misprint for 'Scoggers,' as sleeves worn by cleanly men in dirty 
employments are called in some parts of England. SOUTHEY. 


the poverty of the class no better instance can be 
found than Samuel Wesley, the father of the Wesley s 
who were to change the whole state of religion in 
England, and himself a very stirring person, to whom 
we shall have occasion subsequently to allude. He 
was the son of an ejected and starving noncon- 
formist minister, and when at the age of sixteen lie 
walked to Oxford and entered himself as a servitor 
at Exeter his whole worldly wealth amounted to no 
more than 2 : 16s. Yet, after supporting himself 
during his whole university career without any aid 
from his friends save a trivial five shillings, he set 
off to London to make his plunge into life with a 
capital increased to 10 15s. 1 Five shillings, how- 
ever, sneer as we may, seem to have been no un- 
common " allowance " to a servitor of the time. In 
an amusing imitation of a servitor's letter, in one of 
the squibs of the time, we find the writer, after thank- 
ing his mother for her present of a Cheshire cheese, 
and announcing "I am a rising lad, mother, and have 
gott prefarment in college allready, for owr sextoun 
beeing gonn intoo Heryfordshear has left inee his 
depoty which is a, vary good place," concludes with 
believing he shall do very well, "if you wull but 
send me t'other crowne." 2 

While the less promising, however, were employed 
on the most menial errands, the more literate seem 
often to have been introduced to notice and patron- 
age by the occupation of copying. When Laud 
wished to have some manuscripts transcribed, Birken- 


head, whom we have before mentioned, was recom- 
mended to him as one that " wrote an excellent hand , 
who performed his businesse so well that the Arch- 
bishop recommended him to All Souls' College to be 
a fellow, and he was accordingly elected," * hereafter 
to become scholar, poet, cavalier, and the witty 
editor of the Mercurius Aulicus. "I would not have 
your Spenserian design delayed," writes Johnson to 
Warton. "Let a servitor transcribe the quotations, 
and interleave them with references, to save time " ; 2 
and at the beginning of this century Dr. Hyde 
complains that "some in the university have been 
very troublesome in pressing that their servitors 
may transcribe manuscripts for them though not 
capable of being sworn to the Library." 3 Many similar 
employments seem to have been open to servitors, 
which enabled them to subsist till their degree was 
attained, and distinction lay as open to them as to 
their nobler masters. How well they availed them- 
selves of the opportunity many instances show, but 
none perhaps more so than one whom we have before 
alluded to, Bishop Robinson. Transferred from the 
plough to trade, his master, "finding him more 
inclined to books than business, got him to Brasenose, 
where he was servitour to Sir James Astrey, who was 
extremely Idnd to him " He became fellow of Oriel, 
envoy to Sweden, Bishop in turn of Bristol and 
London, but his greatness did not obliterate the 
memory of his days of toil and poverty; he was 
enabled to relieve his benefactor's son with a chap- 


laincy, and the scholarships "which he founded at 
Oriel attest his gratitude to the university. 1 

At the beginning of the present century the 
order was practically extinct, but, considering the 
facilities it afforded for the entrance of a class into 
the university who are now in effect shut out of it, 
some may perhaps be indisposed to join in Mr. De 
Quincey's rejoicings over "the wise discontinuance 
of the order itself in those colleges which were left 
to their own choice in this matter." 2 

Although, perhaps, the story of Oliver Goldsmith 
has elevated the waiting in hall into greater notoriety 
than any of the other menial services which it fell to 
the servitor's lot to perform, we have reserved them 
for less prominent mention because in reality they 
were not peculiar to this order of students. Battlers, 
a rank which has also disappeared, had, in addition 
to other small perquisites, the dishes from the table 
of the fellow or gentleman commoner whom they 
served. And it was the duty of scholars on the 
foundation, says Salmon, "to wait in hall on the 
fellows by turns." 3 

And this brings us to the consideration of the 
" poor scholar " of those days ; " poor " being then no 
mere statutory epithet, but a reality for the poor 
scholar somewhat of a sad one. Scholars of note could 
fairly lay claim to it ; " Mr. Lydiatt of New, by many 
great judges reckoned to excel Scaliger," vibrates 
all his days between Oxford Bocardo and the King's 
Bench, spending his last penny on books and being, 


says Hearne, "in a manner starved to death." * Mr. 
Trapp found our Poetry professorship not unwelcome, 
" being but in mean circumstances." 2 Ockley, the 
first eastern scholar of his age, studied Arabic and 
wrote his history in Oxford gaol. 3 Dr. Hyde, who 
gave the first great impulse to Oriental studies, 
burnt his unsaleable books to boil his kettle with. 4 
Deep-read Mr. Hales (Hearne recurs to that grim 
phrase) "All allow to have been in a manner 
starved." 5 Nor were these poor scholars at the 
University in a better position. This poor scholar of 
ours (as we have him etched for us in the satires of 
the day, for he was the common butt of wit and 
poetaster) will muffle his face in his gown as he passes 
the shops of his creditors ; will run away in dread of 
battels from the manciple if he meet him ; will barri- 
cade himself in his garret "vile " perhaps, but with 
a window commanding the sole means of approach 
for a dun. He is hunger-pinched, glad to dine upon 
scraps and drink " small acid tiff," If it be cold he 
must blow his chilled fingers to warm them, for there 
is not a knob of coal in the cellar ; ho must sit in the 
dark to mend his tattered stockings or rent galli- 
gaskin for there is not a candle in his closet. None 
cares for his society if he walks, his walk is a soli- 
tary one if he sits in his garret he has no companion 
but " the tube as black as winter chimney or well- 
polished jet "; 6 he may scribble a verse now and then, 
but his musings will be interrupted 


Whether the plaintive voice 
Of laundress shrill awake his startled ear, 
Or barber spruce with supple look intrude, 
Or tailor with obsequious bow advance, 
Or groom invade him with defying front 
And stern demeanour, 1 

from whose persecution he has no refuge but the 
wood-hole. 2 Worst of all miseries he must go supper- 
less to bed, for the Bursar has " crossed " him at the 
buttery, and not a pothouse will " tick " for him more. 
It must not be thought that this picture because 
satirical is too highly coloured. The "mending of 
galligaskins " indeed seems to have borne a different 
aspect to our ancestors from that which it bears to us. 
Dr. Kettle, of whom Aubrey gives us so many odd 
details, when choosing a son-in-law, "seldom found 
Bathurst minding of his booke, but mending of his 
old doublet or breeches; he was very thrifty and 
penurious, and upon this reason he carried away this 
curious creature." 3 But it is noted of this same eccen- 
tric doctor to his honour (and it bears on the question 
which we are treating) that "where he observed 
diligent boys that he ghessed had but a slender ex- 
hibition from their friends, he would many times 
putt money in at their windowes, that his right hand 
did not know what his left did." 4 Nor was this 
penury of modern date. 

For want of means, the University judge me 
I have been fain to heel my tutor's stockings 
At loast seven years, 


says Ford in his Vittoria Corombona, and though 
Padua is the scene alluded to, it can hardly be 
doubted that his description is drawn from the 
Universities where he had himself been a student. 

But the clearest and the most touching picture of 
the position of the poor scholar in the eighteenth 
century is that which has been given us in the few 
faint traditions which Boswell was enabled to collect 
respecting Johnson's life at Oxford. Some of his 
contemporaries l could recollect the awkward, blear- 
eyed, convulsive figure, lounging at the college gates, 
the centre of a circle of gay students, entertaining 
them with his wit, spurring them on to rebellion 
against discipline, or detaining them from their 
studies. He had no close fiiendship with any of his 
fellow collegians ; men and tutors stood alike in awe 
of this strange wild creature who had brought such a 
store of curious and uncommon reading with him, 
and who was already known as a poet of no mean 
abilities; whose pride repelled e\ery overture for 
the relief of his griping poverty, and whose reckless 
wit drew down remonstrances from friendly tutors, 
which "made me ashamed," as he afterwards con- 
fessed, "though I was too proud to own it." 2 He 
ruled his college chums as he ruled his associates 
in affcer life "Sir," said Edwards, an old college 
associate, when he casually met him years after, "I 
remember you would not let us say c prodigious ' at 
college." 3 But all the memories of him were not 
harsh and stern like these. "I'll convince you/' he 


said to this very friend, " that I recollect you. Do 
you remember our drinking together at an ale-house 
near Pembroke Grate? At that time you told me 
of the Eton boy, who, when verses on our Saviour 
turning water into wine were prescribed as an 
exercise, brought up a single line, c Vidit et erubuit 
lympha pudica Deum/ and I quoted another fine 
line from Camden on the death of a king who was 
succeeded by a prince of equal merit 'Mira cano, 
sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta est. J " l But his poverty 
seldom can have allowed him such relaxations. We 
can see how grinding it must have been when we 
find him relinquishing his visits to his friend Taylor, 
becaiise his shoes were worn out, and it was noticed 
by the Christ Church men when a friend in pity 
places a pair of new shoes at his door, and his pride 
makes him fling them away with indignation when 
tho very mention of Dr. Adams's remaik "he was 
caressed and loved by all about him was a gay frolic- 
some fellow and passed there the happiest part of 
his life " forces out from him, when years had passed 
over these memories, the touching reply, "Ah, Sir, I 
was mad and violent it was bitterness they mistook 
for frolic. I was miserably poor and thought to fight 
my way by iny literature and my wit, so I disre- 
garded all power and all authority." 2 


THEHB are certain types which Nature seems never 
tired of repeating if they vanish for a time, it is 
only to spring up into a new life under some different 
name or under a fresh set of circumstances. And 
among this class we may fairly reckon the Oxford 
Freshman. There is no greater difference between 
the young novice of 1760 and the Freshman of a 
hundred years later, than between the hoop of the 
one period and the crinoline of the other. Their 
costume, their manners may differ; but they blush 
with the same " verdancy," pass through the ordeal 
of the same merciless ridicule, develop very much 
into the same characters. 

We are enabled, and principally by the lively 
sketches of Amherst, to gain a pretty distinct con- 
ception of the Freshman of the eighteenth century. 
"We see the public schoolman, just freed from the 
rod of Busby's successors, strutting about town for 
a week or two before entrance, courting his school- 
fellows' envy with his " new suit of drugget, his pair 
of prim rufHes, his new bobwig, and brazen-hilted 


sword," swaggering at coffee-houses, and giving him- 
self a scholar's airs at the bookshops. 1 We see the 
country greenhorn, "mounted on an easy pad," 
trotting with father and mother along the Oxford 
road ; 2 or meet in the High the rough country farmer 
with his equally unkempt hopeful, staring moodily 
about in "linsey woolsey coats, greasy sun- 
burnt heads of hair, clouted shoes, yarn stockings, 
flapping hats with silver hatbands, and long muslin 
neckcloth, run with red at the bottom." 3 They are 
domineered over by the butler, overawed by the tutor, 
and introduced by him to their set, "a parcel of 
honest merry fellows," who complete their initiation 
by carrying them drunk to bed for three or four 
nights together. 4 They are awoke by the bell at six, 
and bestow a pardonable malediction on the servitor 
who bids them tumble into chapel with heads reeling 
from the last night's debauch. 5 A few weeks and 
they are swaggering in their new bobwigs and Oxford- 
made shoes ; drugget supersedes linsey woolsey and 
worsted stockings the yarn , and a month or two sees 
them metamorphosed into complete smarts, "d g 
the old country putts, their fathers, with twenty 
foppish airs and gesticulations." 6 The smart of the 
day rises late in an age of early risers. Nothing 
indeed is more curious than the great change of 
manners in this particular. Milton, we know, rose 
at four in the morning, even after he had lost his 
sight, for the purpose of study. Hobbes, when at 
Oxford, was remarkable for the early hour at which 


he rose. Warton, who would saunter and cliat all 
day, rose in the early morn to study and court the 
muse in his favourite walks along the Cherwell or up 
Headington Hill. And at the very close of the 
century we find Shelley's biographer asserting " many 
of the wholesome usages of antiquity had ceased at 
Oxford, that of early rising however still lingered," l 
and from his subsequent statements it seems to have 
been thought even at that time a piece of gross 
indolence to remain in bed after seven in the morn- 
ing, at whatever hour the sleeper had retired to rest. 
But the smart's breakfast is scarce over by ten ; a 
few notes on the flute a glance at the last French 
comedy, 2 and in academic undress he is strolling to 
Lyne's coffee-house, the great rendezvous of the 
loungers of the day, where at the risk of inked ruffles, 
he indites a billet-doux or a stanza to the reigning 
Sylvia of the town. From Lyne's he saunters for a 
turn or two upon the Park or under Merton wall 
" while the dull regulars," the " slow " fellows, " are 
at dinner in hall according to statute." A little 
dinner in his rooms at one, and an hour devoted to 
dress prepare him for the great business of the after- 
noon. 3 Dress is indeed with him a matter of serious 
import. It was a time when hundreds were spent 
on the costly embroideries of a single suit ; when a 
coat was handed down like an estate from father to 
son ; when a man could count it no reproach if told 
that he carried all he possessed upon his back. 
Those who have laughed and who has not over 


the adventures of Roderick Random, will remember 
the bold stroke of that hero when driven to his last 
resources he expends them on the most costly finely 
and puts his fortune on the hazard of a conquest. 
But an equally amusing instance of the excessive 
value attached to dress occurs in one of the bits of 
news which the Oxford Jownal for 1755 communicates 
to its readers. A young gentlewoman, it appears, 
had thrown herself into the Serpentine " which being 
seen by some gentlemen and ladies that were going to 
Kensington, one of the gentlemen, notwithstanding 
his being finely drest, had the humanity to run to her 
relief and jumped in just time enough to save her." l 
With no little care has our lounger studied the rustle 
of the stiff silk gown, the graceful dependence of the 
long flaxen tie-wig, the defiant cock of his laced hat 
or huge square cap, his red or white stockings, the 
red tops of his Spanish leather shoes, the silk-lined 
coat, the laced ruffles at breast and wrist. With 
what sublime contempt does he look down on "a ragged 
servitor of Jesus, or a half-starved scholar of St. 
John's," 2 on Johnson with his worn-out shoes, or 
Whitefield's "unpowdered hair, woollen gloves, 
patched gown and dirty shoes," 3 as he passes by with 
tripping gait and jaunty dangle of his clouded 
amber-headed cane. The afternoon is spent by our 
exquisite in learning the news of the town or parad- 
ing before the windows of a toast. He drinks a dram 
of citron at Hamilton's and saunters off at last to 
chapel " to shew how genteely he dresses and how 


well he can chaunt." Chapel ended, he has an 
assignation to tea with some fair one, whom he 
amuses with all-important discussions, whether any 
wears " finer lace or better linen than Jack Flutter, 
has handsomer tie-wigs, or more fashionable 
cloaths, or cuts a bolder bosh than Tom Paroquet, 
is a more handy man at a tea table than Eobin 
Flutter, or plays ombre better than Valentine 
Frippery." 1 He waits on her to the fashionable places 
of resort, to Merton, Magdalen Walks, or Paradise 
Garden, 2 whispers his verses in her ear as he attends 
her home, sups, and then turns to the less refined 
pleasures of the night. He is soon one of the group 
round the table of the Mitre or the Tuns, is loud in 
his song, deep in puns, put, or cards, toasts his 
mistress in the spiced cup with the brown toast 
bobbing in it, and staggers home to his college " a 
toper all night as he trifles all day." 3 

Almost a century before, the same character had 
been wittily painted by Dr. Eaiie, under the name of 
"a young gentleman of the University." He 
" is one that comes there to wear a gown, and to say 
hereafter he has been at the University. His father 
sent him thither because he heard there wore the 
best fencing and dancing schools ; from these he had 
his education from his tutor, the oversight. . . . 
His study has commonly handsome shelves, his 
books neat silk strings, which he shews to his father's 
man, and is loth to unty or take down for fear of 
misplacing. Upon foul days for recreation he retires 


thither and looks over the pretty book his tutor reads 
to him, for which his tutor gives him money to spend 
next day. His main loitering is at the library, where 
he studies arms and books of honour, and turns 
a gentleman critic in pedigrees. Of all things he 
endures not to be mistaken for a scholar, and hates 
a black suit, though it be made of sattin. His 
company is ordinarily some stale fellow that has been 
notorious for an ingle to gold hatbands. " 1 

Most of these exquisites were gentleman-com- 
moners, a class which is now rapidly decaying, but 
which was then in its fullest vigour. They were 
allowed either to dine with the Fellows or at a 
separate table of their own ; their college charges 
were double those of an ordinary member, and a 
liberty even more than proportionate to their position 
seems to have been allowed them. Every temptation 
to idleness was in fact thrown in their way. They 
were told plainly that it was not for men of their 
fortune to mind exercises ; if studious, the gentleman 
commoner was taunted with being ik morose," and 
" a heavy bookish fellow " ; if his wine was good, the 
Fellows would forgive every delinquency, and excuse 
even absence from morning chapel. 2 " My own intro- 
duction," say Gibbon, " to the University of Oxford 
forms a new era in my life, and at the distance of 
forty years I still remember my first emotions of 
surprise and satisfaction. In my fifteenth year I felt 
myself suddenly raised from a boy to a man ; the 
persons whom I respected as my superiors in age and 


academical rank entertained me with every maik of 
attention and civility ; and my vanity was flattered 
by the velvet cap and silk gown which distinguish a 
gentleman commoner from a plebeian student. A 
decent allowance, more money than a schoolboy had 
ever seen, was at my own disposal; and I might 
command among the tradesmen of Oxford an in- 
definite and dangerous latitude of credit." " The want 
of experience, of advice, and of occupation soon 
betrayed me into some improprieties of conduct, 
ill-chosen company, late hours, and inconsiderate 
expense. My growing debts might be secret, but 
my frequent absence was visible and scandalous, and 
a tour to Bath, a visit into Buckinghamshire, and 
four excursions to London in the same winter were 
costly and dangerous frolics. The irksomeness of a 
cloistered life repeatedly tempted me to wander, but 
my chief pleasure was that of travelling, and I was 
too young and bashful to enjoy, like a manly Oxonian 
in town, the pleasures of London. In all these 
excursions I eloped from Oxford; I returned to 
college; in a few days I eloped again as if I had 
been an independent stranger in a hired lodging, 
without once hearing the voice of admonition, without 
once feeling the hand of control ; yet my time was 
lost, my expenses were multiplied, my behaviour 
abroad was unknown; folly as well as vice should 
have awakened the attention of my superiors, and 
my tender years would have justified a more than 
ordinary degree of restraint and discipline." 1 Nor 


are the reminiscences of the first Lord Malmesbury, 
then Mr. Harris, less severe on the University 
system. "In fact, the two years of my life I look 
back to as most unprofitably spent were those I passed 
at Merton," 1763-5. " The discipline of the University 
happened at this particular moment to be so lax that 
a gentleman commoner was under no restraint, and 
never called on to attend lectures, chapel, or hall. My 
tutor, an excellent and worthy man, according to the 
practice of all tutors at that moment, gave himself no 
concern about his pupils. I never saw him but during 
a fortnight when I took into my head to be taught 
trigonometry. The set of men with whom I lived 
were very pleasant, but very idle fellows. Our life 
was an imitation of High Life in London; luckily 
drinking was not the fashion, but what we did drink 
was claret, and we had our regular round of evening 
card parties, to the great annoyance of our finances. 
It has often been a matter of surprise to me how so 
many of us made our way so well in the world, and 
so creditably." 1 

How far these excesses might be carried with 
comparative impunity we leain from the anecdotes 
which are preserved of Foote's residence in the Uni- 
versity just previous to 1740. The future wit, 
though entered on the foundation of Worcester as 
founder's kin, seems to have plunged at once into all 
the dissipation of the town. His dress was of the 
utmost extravagance, and we can guess at its character 
from the frock suit of green and silver lace, bagwig, 


sword, bouquet, and point ruffleb in which he was 
soon afterwards to make his entrance into the Bedford, 
and at once take his place among the critics and the 
wits. In every sort of reckless adventure Foote soon 
took the lead , he acted Punch in disguise through 
the streets, and amused the crowd with his ridicule 
of the pomposity of his college's head. Provost 
Gower, the most lumbering of pedants, was the 
object of his especial persecution. On one occasion 
when summoned to receive a reprimand from the 
insulted dignitary, he presented himself with the 
greatest appearance of gravity and submission, but 
with a dictionary under his arm. No sooner had the 
pompous harangue begun than at the first long word 
Foote interrupts the Doctor, begs pardon with the 
greatest formality, and turns over his dictionary to 
find out its meaning, and after a moment's pause 
requests the Provost to proceed. Yet even this grave 
insult seems to have passed without severe punish- 
ment, and it was not till the audacious rake, on his 
return from a trip to Bath, dashed through Oxford 
in a coach and six greys, accompanied by " society 
not very worshipful," tricked out in ridiculous 
finery, and attended by a couple of footmen, that the 
authorities took him gravely to task, and though he 
quitted college in consequence, it is expressly men- 
tioned that his departure was voluntary, and " with- 
out any public censure." 1 


WE have in a previous paper sketched the rapid 
metamorphosis of a bumpkin into a fop, but it must 
not be supposed that the change was always so 
complete or instantaneous. The freshman some- 
times transferred to college the habits of school : 
kept his room, buried himself in his books, and 
seldom appeared but in a dirty brown wig and linen 
that would have borne washing. Taunts were in- 
effective, though conveyed as delicately as those 
which Do Quincey has recorded. "I neglected," 
says that entertaining writer, in speaking of his 
Oxford career in 1803, &c., " I neglected my dress in 
one point habitually, that is, I wore my clothes till 
they were threadbare, partly in the belief that my 
gown would conceal their main defects, but much 
more from carelessness and indisposition to bestow 
upon a tailor what I had destined for a bookseller. 
At length an official person sent me a message on the 
subject." This was, however, disregarded, and "one 
day I suddenly made the discovery that I had no 
waistcoat which was not torn, or otherwise dilapi- 


dated, whereupon, buttoning up my coat to the 
throat, and drawing my gown as close about me as 
possible, I went into the hall. A grave man, with a 
superlatively grave countenance, whom I did not 
personally know, addressing his friend sitting opposite 
begged to know if he had seen the last Gazette, because 
he understood it contained an order in Council laying 
an interdict upon the future use of waistcoats. His 
friend replied with the same perfect gravity that he 
trusted so sensible an order would be followed up 
by an interdict on breeches they being still more 
disagreeable to pay for." 1 

Stubborn, however, as our student might be in 
his poverty and bookishness, his friends had still one 
weapon to try ere they despaired of his reforma- 
tion. "Had he never seen Miss Flavia,, the top 
toast of the town ? Why, she had been heard 

to say in pubhck company * Mr. is a 

man of fire; 'tis a thousand pities he is such a 
sloven J ! " The poor fellow eats no supper, retires 
to walk restlessly about his chamber, flings his 
brown wig into the fire, and swears, like one dis- 
tracted, that he will see her to-morrow. An inter- 
view with his mercer, a few hints of future expecta- 
tions, a, bill begun, and our heio is in an hour a 
smart. The assemblies are soon buzzing with the 
news that Dick dresses at Miss Flavia ; the girl in 
her turn is enraptured at her conquest ; Dick flings 
aside his band and ruffles, wearies his brain with no 
heavier task than the penning a sonnet, a billet, or an 


epigram, and dwindles into the hanger-on of a 
toast. 1 

Whatever reason be assigned, it is certain that 
the toast of a hundred years since occupied a far 
more conspicuous place in Oxford society than her 
nameless successors in the present day, Tatlers 
and Spectators did not deem her beneath their 
notice ; she was the theme of a hundred songs, jests, 
satires. Her father so runs the sarcastic description 
of her which Amherst has given a good honest trades- 
man, dreams of raising his family by her marriage 
with a parson or a schoolmaster; the little Miss, 
not yet in her " teens," is forbidden to play with the 
muckworms of the neighbourhood ; she graduates at 
a dancing school, and sallies forth to victory with no 
arms save "an hoop, a gay suit of clothes, and 
two or three new Holland smocks." She is assidu- 
ous at balls and assemblies ; you may meet her in 
every public walk, coyly listening to the compliments 
of the chance gownsman who has had the happy 
audacity to address her, who waits on her home, calls 
the next day, and dangles ever after. 2 

The time has gone by since grave dons com- 
plained that, with a court and ladies of honour 
invading the cloistered shades, all learning was at an 
end ; since, in her rooms at Mertoii, Barbara Villiers, 
Lady Castlemaine, gave birth to a son, whom the 
Merry Monarch did not blush to claim for his own ; 
since Lady Isabella Thynne 3 "the possessor of all 
the virtues save one," as Aubrey tells us used to 


come with a friend of hers to morning prayers at 
Trinity College Chapel " half-drest, like angels," or 
make her entrance upon the college walks with a 
lute playing before her just as "\Yaller sang of her : 

The trembling strings about her fingers crowd, 
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud. 

But the toast still carries on the war of her sex 
against academic studies. The smart, with his hair 
just * e wired " by the friseur, and his cap trimmed to 
the smallest size, parades daily beneath her window 
for the chance of a look or an ogle ; grave Dons lay 
down their pipes for her society; l should Patty go on 
Sunday to church, " the students stand in rows at 
her pew door " ; she is toasted at the clubs, and the 
High Borlace, 2 at its annual meeting at the King's 
Head, chooses her their patroness for the year : 
while in the Trinity Gentleman Commoners' and 
Bachelors' Common-room the chosen Laureate is 
reciting, crowned with a wreath of laurel, a copy of 
verses in her honour. Toasts, indeed, seem to have 
been the Oxford Muses of the last century, and to 
have inspired every poetaster with a passion for 
song. Miss Brickenden cannot go down to Nuneham 
without the trees being invited to "rush into the 
flood " to meet her, while the laggards the " gouty 
oaks," we suppose, of Tennyson's Amphion are ex- 
horted to 

Peep o'er their fellows 5 heads to view the fair, 
Whose name upon their wounded bark they bear. 3 


Miss Polly Foote's brief visit becomes the basis of a 
little epic, where Cupid sends this lovely emissary to 
make war upon the favourite seat of Pallas, stations 
her battery at a Venetian window, and joys to see 

What troops of gazing students fell, 
Stretch' d o'er the smooth parade. 

Folios are relegated to their former dust ; logic is 
abandoned, pipes neglected, and churches deserted 
for Polly, till at the prayer of the assaulted Deity 
Jove decrees, as the sole means of saving Learning's 
seat from destruction, that " Iris should next week 
convey fair Polly back to London." 1 Here and there, 
it must be owned, this great engine of compliment 
was turned into an instrument of satire. Lucetta 
was taunted as one who 

Bears Jove's lightnings in her eyes, 
But in her voice his thunder j s 

or Belinda reminded in mellifluous verse of her 
rouge and cosmetic, or scandal just hinted at the 
" three-pair window " whence the Troughs looked 
down on their admirers below. 

The favourite resort of the toasts was Merton 
Walks, which during the early part of the century, 
constituted the fashionable Oxford promenade. 
Every Sunday night saw them "thronged with 
young gentlemen and gentlewomen," as Hearne 
soberly puts it, " like a fair." 3 We can very dimly 
discern through the chance notices of the time 
which have reached us, the more prominent features 


of the scene the brilliant medley of smirking 
beaux and smiling belles, the laughter and jest and 
repartee, the soft compliment and whispered as- 
signation, the couples retreating to talk sentiment 
in the more retired corners, the elders talking 
fashion and scandal in the broad promenade, the tap 
of the snuff-bos, the rattle of the fan. We can see 
the Brooks towering high above her rivals, " the tall 
cedar " that " o'erlooks the wood," or meet the sisterly 
Troughs, about whom there are such whispers 
and suspicions. Margaret with her proud cold 
bearing, contrasting so strongly with the alternating 
smile and frown of the coquette Maria. Not that all 
is joy and happiness here, " radiant Astre " has a 
cloud upon her brow " has generous love no 
charms or riches more 1 " she has, in plain English, 
been jilted in favour of a wealthier widow ; while 
Hay ward, " every fair in one," is scornfully telling the 
simpering Strephons of the impudent fellow whose 
billet desired her visit to his chamber alone. 

The source from which much of this sketch is 
derived is a small poem called "Merton Walks, or 
the Oxford Beauties." The Queen of Beauty turns 
Jacobite, and flies from a court where " German 
eyes" bear rule, till passing over "Rhedecyna's 
towers," she sees a thousand beauteous nymphs 

A thousand sportive youths contiived for joy, 
As her Adonis fair, but not so coy. 

She determines to fix her empire there, and the 


poet summons this brilliant troop ol her subjects to a 
closer review. From this point all is indiscriminate 
flattery. "We can almost picture to ourselves the 
author, sallying forth in the conscious perfection of 
fashion, and whispering in every ear that strain of 
elaborate compliment, the art of -which Louis 
Quatorze had bequeathed his only benefaction to 
his admiring century. He learns from Brunetta's 
eyes that " beauty to no colour is confined the 
fair, the brown, all equally destroy " j he mourns 
over the loss of Eleanora, and beflatters Celia with a 
curious cento of mythological allusion. Merton 
Gardens are transformed for the nonce into "Ida's 
hill," and our poetic Paris only gets rid of the diffi- 
culty of selection by suddenly apostrophising a passing 
" Miss Harris," as it seems, a visitor "from Winton's 
towers the lovely robber came." But, little disturbed 
by the incident, our author is already reminding 
Miss Law of her trip to the Woodstock races, 
how at her appearance "the winged coursers 
passed unheeded by " ; he is thrown into an affected 
ecstacy as he greets another beauty, "where Ham- 
mond is, with every beauty crowned, a thousand 
Cupids scatter deaths around " ; he is whispeiing 
with " charming White," and ransacked at last of all 
his store of compliments, he is forced to adore 
" lovely Wright," by attributing to her all the united 
perfections of her rivals. By this time we have 
nearly forgotten the epic and its machinery, but 
they are suddenly recalled at the close ; the Goddess 

THE literary and social life of the last century 
seemed to centre in its Clubs. Dryden's arm-chair 
recalls to us Will's ; Addison held " his little senate " 
at Button's; Johnson gave his name to one which 
continues famous to this day. The conclusion of 
our last paper would show that Oxford faithfully 
copied the fashion of the Metropolis. But the 
Amorous Club whether the mere creation of the 
graceful essayist, or (as is more probable) founded 
on real Oxford reminiscences was not the only 
instance which can be given. The Terras Eilius 1 
gives us an account full of absurd exaggeration, 
but evidently founded on a substratum of fact, of a 
Poetical Club, presided over by Tom Warton, the 
father of the more celebrated poet of the 1 ' same 
name. The Three Tuns is the place chosen for its 
deliberations, with this proviso "That Mr. Brad- 
gate would keep good wine, and a pretty wench at 
the bar, both of which are, by all critics, allowed to 
be of indispensable use in poetical operations." No 
member is admitted without certificate of distinction 


in " tale, catch, sonnet, epigram, madrigal, anagram, 
acrostic, tragedy, comedy, or epic." A reverend 
Doctor alone is allowed to smoke in a corner ; to the 
rest tobacco is forbidden, "the fumigation thereof 
being supposed to cloud the poetical faculty and to 
clog the subtle wheels of the imagination." The 
members " clear their throats with a glass of port and 
a loud Hem!" The utmost license is allowed to 
innuendo or double -entendre, but on one point, 
orthodoxy, the utmost rigid severity prevails. When 
a daring versifier argues that "since some one God 
believe, some thirty, and some three," since men differ 
universally on this point, while on the worship of 
woman all agree 

Since in this faith no heresies we find, 
To love let .our religion be resigned, 
And Cselia reign, the goddess of mankind, 

the jest is voted heretical, burnt by the hands of the 
small-beer-drawer, and its author expelled the club. 

More license was probably allowed in the crowd of 
clubs which a letter in the Spectator mentions as 
having sprung up about the beginning of the last 
century, the Punning Club the Witty Club and 
the Handsome Club. The last found a formidable 
rival in a burlesque of itself, which Steele has im- 
mortalised under the name of the Ugly Club. Their 
rules were embodied in an "Act of Deformity"; 
"a visible quearity in aspect"; a "peculiar cast of 
countenance " ; "gibbosity," or "obliquity," were the 


necessary qualifications for admission. The figures 
of Esop, Thersites, Scarron, and Hudibras adorned 
their club -room. Over their pipes and ale they 
recited their congratulations to Mrs. Touchwood "upon 
the loss of her two fore-teeth " ; or to Mrs. Andiron on 
the deformity of her " left shoulder " ; or toasted Mrs. 
Yizard with acclamation on the ground of her ad- 
vance in ugliness since the small-pox. 1 

But of the majority of the Clubs of the time we 
know only the names. We meet with them in quaint 
advertisements, as in the following from the Oxfwd 
Journal for 1775: "The brethren of the Arcadian 
Society are requested to meet at the Angel Inn, in 
Oxford, to ballot for some fresh candidates. (Signed) 
Alphesibceus, Crook-holder." 2 Here and there we get 
a casual glimpse of their doings within, as in Hearne's 
mention of the meeting of the " High Borlace at the 
King's Head, when Miss Molly Wickham of Garsington 
was chosen lady patroness in room of Miss Stonhouse 
that was lady patroness last year." s But for the most 
part we are left to glean what we can from the mere 
names, and these are generally characteristic. Our 
notion of the "Nonsense Club "is verified when we learn 
that George Colman, Bonwell Thornton, and Lloyd 
were among its first founders ; nor can any mistake 
the meaning of the "Jelly-bag Club," who remember 
that famous little epigram from which it derives its 
title. 4 We can only fancy to ourselves the nightly 
gathering, the chat, laughter, and wit, the poem read 
and criticised, the toast drunk in repeated potations, 


the candles burning dim and blue in the smoky 
atmosphere. ^ For if our own can yield to no other 
age in the universal diffusion of the habit of smoking, 
the last century seems to have been especially the 
sera of old smokers. "We meet with no mention of 
the Common-room of those days without some refer- 
ence to pipes. Scholars and divines derived inspiration 
from it in their studies. The Civil Wars furnished 
the great means for the diffusion of this taste ; soldiers 
brought it from Germany, and marches and counter 
marches spread it over England. How firm a root 
it took in Oxford we see from Dr. Plot's mention of 
the bed of white clay at Shotover, "which during 
the late wars, in the siege, was wholly used for 
making tobacco pipes." 1 By this time it had conquered 
every prejudice against its use. When Ealeigh, 
" standing in a stand at Sir Eobert Poyntz's parke 
at Acton tooke a pipe of tobacco, it made the ladies 
quitt it till he had donne." And, writing in 1680, 
Aubrey adds, "within these thirty-five years 'twas 
scandalous for a divine to take tobacco." 2 Now 
Aldrich could print in company with his " Hark, the 
bonny Christ Church bells," a "Smoking Catch to 
be sung by four men smoking their pipes, not more 
difficult to sing than diverting to hear." The 'Sam' 
of the "I prythee, Sam, fill," was Aldrich's friend, 
Sampson Eastwich, of Christ Church, and of the 
three other singers one was the Dean himself. So 
notorious was his love of smoking that a young 
gentleman so runs the story betted with a friend 


that the Dean was smoking at the moment of their 
talk, which happened to be ten in the morning. 
The Dean received his visitors, laughed good- 
humouredly at their tale, and replied " you see you 
have lost your wager, for I am not smoking but 
filling my pipe." l But perhaps tobacco never took 
so public a position as in the exhibition which we 
find mentioned in Hearne's Diary for the year 1723. 
"At two o'clock in the afternoon was a smoking 
match over against the Theatre, a scaffold being 
built up for it just at Finmore's, an ale-house. 'Twas 
thought a journeyman tailor of St. Peter's in the 
East would have been victor, he smoking faster than, 
and being many pipes before, the rest, but at last he 
was so sick that 'twas thought he would have died, 
and an old man that had been a soldier and smoked 
gently came off conqueror, smoking the three ounces 
quite out, and four or five pipes the same evening." 2 
There is another habit peculiar in the excess to 
which it then was carried, to the age of which we 
are treating, which however disagreeable to dwell 
upon it would be altogether absurd to omit in a 
notice of this century. It was a> century of hard 
drinkers. The vice was not confined to grade or 
age, the Don was carried to bed as often as the 
servitor. Dr. G-rabe, the great theologian's " way of 
writing was to have a bottle of ale, brandy, or wine 
stand by him and every three or four lines of his writ- 
ing he would drink thereof." 8 Hearne does not scruple 
to call the fellows of University " debauchees " j 4 their 


senior fellow passed by the significant name of " Jolly 
Ward," 1 The scurrilous Terras Filius of 1733, in his 
" speech as it was to have been spoken at the public 
Act," could taunt the fellows of All Souls : "I would 
willingly next pay a visit to their college, if I could 
find it out ; it used to stand on the right hand above 
Queen's, but if we may judge from the resort of its 
members we should judge it to be translated over the 
way, and that the Three Tuns Tavern was All Souls' 
College, did not the effigies of the good Archbishop 
over the door convince us to the contrary." 2 The 
fellows of St. John's " valued themselves for having 
the best single and double coll 8 in the University," 
and doubtless could appreciate the fine old drinking 

In potu primo purgatur guttur a limo ; 
Gaudia sunt nobis solenma quum bibo bis ; 
Nil valeant vma nisi sit potatio trina ; 
Cumqne quater poto tune Isetor pectore toto ; 
Ad quintum potum mens labitur in paradisum ; 
Sestus vult potus ut nemo sit mihi notus ; 
Potu septeno frons efficitur sine freno ; 
Octavo potu sum debilis et sine motu ; 
Nono tractatur ut corpus sepeliatur. 

Lord Eldon has recorded in his anecdote book 
how he saw a Doctor of Divinity striving to make 
his way to Brasenose through Eadcliffe Square ; "he 
had reached the Library, a rotunda then without 
railings, and, unable to support himself except by 
keeping one hand upon the building, he continued 
walking round and round" till rescued by a friend. 4 


It was no new feature in the character of an Oxford 
Doctor. "When the Spanish ambassador visited the 
University in the time of James I., "I shall not tell 
you," says a letter-writer of the time, "how our 
Doctors pledged healths to the Infanta and Arch- 
Duchess, and, if any left too big a snuff, Colombo 
would cry ' supernagulum ' (invert the cup on the 
nail, so that if a drop remains it would be detected)." I 
But the dons of the eighteenth century far exceeded 
their predecessors in the regularity as well as depth 
of their potations. The immense punch-bowl which 
Sir Watkin Wynn bequeathed to Jesus College 2 was 
the most fitting gift for the time. " I did not leave 
off drinking wine because I could not bear it," said 
Dr. Johnson. "I have drunk off three bottles of 
port without being the worse of it. University 
College has witnessed this." 3 " Were the Colleges 
ever to be reformed," wrote Southey, soon after his 
entrance, "and reformation will not come before it is 
wanted, I would have a little more of the disci- 
pline kept up. Temperance is much wanted; the 
waters of Helicon are far too much polluted by the 
wine of Bacchus ever to produce any effect." 4 
" Oxford," wrote Crosse 5 to his mother at the very 
beginning of the present century, " is a perfect hell 
upon earth. What chance is there for an unfortunate 
lad just come from school, with no one to watch and 
care for him no guide ? I often saw my tutor carried 
off, perfectly intoxicated " 

The undergraduates, says Lord Eldon, were 


no better. At Corpus Christ! were drinking cups 
and glasses, which, from their shape, were called ox- 
eyes. "Pol, me ox-eye-distis, amici," punned a 
young tippler as he was being helped to bed. Kegs 
of brandy and other cordials crowded Christ Church 
meadow when the ice was frozen for skating. John 
Scott as he was then termed broke through into 
the ditch, and, on scrambling out, a brandy-vendor 
recommended him "something warm." "None of 
your brandy for that wet young man," cried Lord 
Grantley's son as he swept past, "he never drinks 
but when he is dry." l Even those who detested ex- 
cesses succumbed to the tone of the place. Abbot, 
indeed, the future Lord Tenterden, could summon 
up enough courage to decline wine parties, but few 
were so resolute. " I always hated wine," confessed 
Crosse, "but I had not the moral courage to resist 
joining in the parties which were made up by my 
companions." 2 But the drinking of the time of 
which Crosse spoke was trivial when compared with 
the drinking that was passing slowly away. Of 
Lord Lovelace, the Principal of his Hall could report 
that " he never knew him sober but twelve hours, 
and that he used every morning to drink a quart of 
brandy, or something equivalent to it, to his own 
share." 3 

The results of this debauchery it was easy to 
foresee. Lord Cornbury, fresh from Christ Church, 
dies of "hard drinking, particularly taking hot 
spirits in a morning "j 4 Dr. Inett's son "being drink- 


ing with three others, after they had drunk ale for 
some time, 'twas concluded to drink brandy upon it, 
which they did in such a quantity that they all fell 
asleep," and awaking, "found Inett quite dead." 1 
Nor were these deaths confined to the junior 
members of the University. Hearne records the 
death of \Vhiteside, the keeper of the Ashmolean, 
from drinking "a pretty deal of bad small beer at 
Christ Church," 2 and the account of the end of the 
Savilian Professor of Astronomy must be left to tell 
its own tale " that which immediately contributed 
to his death (as it is said) was drinking late on 
Saturday night, at his own house, where he enter- 
tained, with wine and punch, the Vice-Chancellor, Sir 
Tom Gifford, and some others." 3 

We pass easily from this subject to a few notices 
of the Taverns and Ale-houses of the time. 4 It is 
curious to remark the difference between the manners 
of the last and present centuries in this particular. 
The tavern was the favourite resort of the senior as 
well as the junior members of the University. St. 
John's sent its Fellows forth at eve as we learn 
from their enemy, Amherst to drink their bottle at 
the neighbouring ale-house; we have seen the All 
Souls' men .(congregating at the Three Tuns ; Warton 
" was fond of drinking his ale and smoking his pipe 
with persons of mean rank and education." 6 By the 
younger scholars it was even more frequented. The 
poor battler, who dared not enter the more refined 
and dearer coffee-house, left his masters to their 


punch, and turned away to his pipe and ale at 
"Juniper's Magpie or Town Hall." 1 Dr. Newton 
laments the growing inclination to "go every evening 
to a public house, become mighty to mingle strong 
drink, and suffer the love of it to steal upon them." 2 
But the rebuke is one-sided ; strong drink could be 
mingled in common rooms as well as taverns, but the 
ale-house gave the poor scholar, in addition to its 
liquors, the precious joys of light, fire, and society; 
and, recalling the lines of Warton, in his Panegyric, 
we may, perhaps, see beneath their irony some 
traces of the " home-like " feeling with which the ale- 
house was regarded by the half-starved student or 
the weary servitor : 

To pot-house I repair, the sacred haunt 
Where, Ale, thy votaries, in full resort, 
Hold rites nocturnal. In capacious chair. 
Of monumental oak and antique mould, 
* * I place 

My gladsome limbs, while, in repeated round, 
Keturns replenished the successive cup, 
And the brisk fire conspires to general joy ; 
While, haply, to relieve the lingering hours 
In innocent delight, amusive Putt, 
On smooth joint-stool, in emblematic play, 
The vaiu vicissitudes of fortune shows ; 
3Tor reckoning, name tremendous, me disturbs, 
2Tor called for chills my breast with sudden fear, 
While on the wonted door, expressive mark, 
The frequent penny stands described to view 
In snowy characters and graceful row. 


were the amusements of Oxford men during 
the last century? That these constituted no unim- 
portant part of their social life, the founder of New 
College had long since shown. "Since," he says 
in his statutes, "since in the winter time a fire 
in Hall is afforded for the Fellows, then let the 
Scholars and Fellows be allowed after dinner or 
supper time to enjoy a becoming leisure for recrea- 
tion's sake in Hall in ballad-singing (cantilenis) or 
other seemly amusement, and somewhat more gravely 
to peruse poems, histories, and the wonders of the 
world, with all other things that befit their clerical 
position." And how long these amusements in Hall 
survived we can see from the account which Wood 
gives us of some in which he himself bore a part 
at Merton. "Christmas appearing there were fires 
of charcoal made in the common Hall on All Saints' 
Eve, All Saints' Day and night, on the holydayes, 
and their nights and eves between that time and 
Christmas Day. Then on Christmas Eve, Christmas 
Day and holydayes and their nights, and on Candlemas 


Eve, Candlemas Day and night At all these fires every 
night, which began to be made a little after five of 
the clock, the senior undergraduats would bring into 
the Hall the juniors or freshmen between that time 
and six of the clock, and there make them sit downe 
on a forme in the middle of the Hall, joyning to 
tho declaiming desk, which done, every one in order 
was to speake some pretty apothegme, or make a 
jest or bull, or speake some eloquent nonsense to 
make the company laugh. But if any of the fresh- 
men came off dull or not cleverly, some of the 
forward or pragmatical seniors would tnck' them, 
that is, set the nail of their thumb to their chin 
just under the lipp, and by the help of their other 
fingers under the chin they would give him a mark 
which somtimes would produce blood. On Candle- 
mas Day or before (according as Shrove Tuesday 
fell out) every freshman had warning given him to 
provide his speech to be spoken in the publick Hall 
before the undergraduats and servants on Shrove 
Tuesday night that followed, being alwaies the time 
for the observation of that ceremony The fire being 
made in the Common Hall before five of the clock 
at night, the Fellowes would go to supper before 
six ; and, making an end sooner than at other times, 
they left the Hall to the libertie of the under- 
graduats, but with an admonition from one of 
the fellowes (who was the principal of the under- 
graduats and postmasters) that all things should 
be carried in good order, While they were at 


supper in the Hall, the cook was making the lesser 
of the brass pots ful of cawdel at the freshman's 
charge, which, after the Hall was free from the 
fellows, was brought up and set before the fire in 
the said Hall. Afterwards every freshman accord- 
ing to seniority was to pluck off his gowne and 
band, and if possible to make himself look like a 
scoundrell. This done, they were conducted each 
after the other to the high table and there made to 
stand on a forme placed thereon, from whence they 
were to speak their speech with an audible voice to 
the company, which if well done the person that 
spoke it was to have a cup of cawclle and no salted 
drinke ; if indifferently, some cawdle and some salted 
drink; but if dull, nothing was given to him 
but salted drinke, or salt put in college beere, with 
tucks to boot. Afterwards, when they were to be 
admitted into the fraternity, the senior cook was to 
administer to them an oath over an old shoe, part 
of which runs thus, 'Item tu jurabis quod Penni- 
less Bench 1 non visitabis'; after which, spoken 
with gravity, the freshman kist the shoe, put on 
his gowne and band and took his place among the 
seniors." Doubtless, though most of these jocular 
observances were swept away during the reign of 
the Puritans, yet as "Warton notes on this very pas- 
sage customs bearing a very near resemblance to 
this were still kept up in the eighteenth century. 2 
But their chief amusement seems to have lain with- 
out the college walls. The times were long past 


since the scholars amused themselves in Bellomonte 
(Beaumont), 1 the fields of which were portioned out 
to the different degrees. We have seen them loiter- 
ing their mornings at the coffee-house, or taking an 
early tankard at the tavern; one of the especial 
enjoyments of the afternoon seems to have been 
boating. Southey's favourite diversion was a pull 
with his friend "Wynn upon the Isis. " There were 
but two things I learnt in Oxford/' he could say in 
after life, "to row and to swim." 2 "So," sings our 
own Hurdis 

So on thy banks, too, Isis have I strayed 

A tasselled Student, witness you who shared 

My morning walk, my ramble at high noon, 

My evening voyage, an unskilful sail, 

To Godstow bound, or some inferior port, 

For strawberries and cream. "What have we found 

In life's austerer hours delectable 

As the long day so loitered * 3 

But it seems that that age was not exempt from the 
accidents that have so often thrown a gloom over 
the amusement in our own day, for we find con- 
tinually announcements of a similar character with 
the following, from the Oxford Journal, April 13, 1776 : 
"On Monday last, as Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Bullock, and 
Mr. Street, of Merton College, were sailing on the 
river near Kennington, their boat was overset by a 
sudden gust of wind, when the two former were 
unfortunately drowned." Others of the "regulars," 
like Warton (and, as we have seen above, Hurdis) 3 


preferred the "constitutional" up Headington Hill, 
or a "saunter on the banks of his favourite Cher- 
well," or the enjoyment of the frequent concerts at 
the new Music-room. 1 But the bulk of Oxford men 
sought for amusements of a less refined character. 
They had no literature to amuse them ; indeed, no 
taste for it seems to have existed. " Few or none of 
the Oxford undergraduates, with whom parity of 
standing threw me into collision at my first outset, 
knew anything at all of English literature/' says 
De Quincey; "the Spectator seemed to me the only 
book of a classical rank which they had read, and 
even this less for its inimitable delicacy, humour, 
and refined pleasantry in dealing with manners and 
characters, than for its insipid and meagre essays, 
ethical or critical," 2 which might serve them for trans- 
lations and exercises. Eougher diversions were pro- 
vided for these. The conduit now stood on the site 
of the old bull-ring, but we see them with doffed 
coat and bob-wig, "cocking" at the pit in Holywell, 
skittle-playing at TVolvercot and Godstow, carousing 
at Wallingford or Abingdon, or gambling at home. 
The practice was not confined to the juniors a 
Terrce Filius could shake a dice-box in the Theatre 
at the President of St, John's, and salute him, as 
he entered, with "Jacta est alea, doctor, seven's 
the main." 3 Practical jokes and still more daring 
exploits relieved the monotony of the fast man's 
existence. It is amusing to find a grave Lord Chan- 
cellor telling us of the riotous deeds of plain Mr, 


Scott. An invalid grumbled that the view from 
his window down the High Street was intercepted 
by a tree in All Saints' churchyard. His young asso- 
ciates determined to relieve him. "One night," 
says Lord Eldon, "when the moon was under a 
cloud, we set the gentleman's servant to cut down 
this tree whilst we stationed ourselves at different 
parts to watch. "Well, he was very long about it, 
and the moon began to appear, and we were in a 
great fright, so got over the wall to see what he was 
about. He was a Yorkshireman, and he told us e The 
seg winna wag ' ; and that, which meant the saw will 
not move was all that we could get from him. So 
we had to help him, down came the tree, and away 
we all scampered. Next day there were handbills 
and magistrates offering a reward for the conviction 
of any of the offenders who had the night before 
committed a dreadful crime in All Saints' Church- 
yard. None of us peached, and so we all escaped, 
and Nurse said it was the most glorious crime that 
had ever been perpetrated in favour of a patient." 1 
"Bucks and bloods" cocked their newly-laced hats 
as they whirled along from Blagrave's stables to 
Campsfield, nodded to laughing toasts on the race- 
course at Woodstock, pic-nic'd at Enstone wells, 
or dined "on mutton chops and scanty wine" at 
Dorchester. 2 

The smart, however, despised excursions so trivial 
as these. Tired of billiards, runs with Capt. Bertie's 
pack, and the bowling-green, he is fluttering day 


after day at Bath, or plunging down, " amid a crowd 
of academics," at Astrop. About a hundred years 
before, a young doctor, 1 just fresh from Oxford, "rid- 
ing towards Brackley, to a patient, his way led him 
through Astrop, where he observed the stones in 
the little rill were discoloured of a kind of Crocus- 
Martis colour; thought he, this may be an indica- 
tion of iron; he getts galls, and putts some of the 
powder into the water, and immediately it turned 
blackish; there, said he, 'I'll not send my patients 
now so far as Tunbridge. 3 " His observation 
and acuteness made Willis's fortune, and raised 
a little village for a time into a fashionable water- 
ing-place. But London was the great magnet that 
attracted the majority of the idlers and bucks of 
the time. There is no one to be found in Tom 
Lowngeit's room, the ordinary sporting-room, with 
its prints of horses and dogs, its hat and whip on one 
hook, and pair of boots on another, its sole library 
the Sportsman's Calendar and Gibson's Treatise on 
Horses. The room is empty, for Tom, with Dick 
Eiot, and a few choice spirits, are on their way to 
town, and a smart rider Dick makes, in his long 
blue riding coat, with plate buttons, and leathern 
belt girding his waist. 

The Oxford man in London is the butt of all the 
wits of Ms time. They are never weary of ridiculing 
his awkward imitation of a man of the town. He 
"transfers to playhouse, park, and tavern the loung- 
ing air that passes for senteel in an Oxford Coffee- 


house," but he misses the genuine careless loll and 
easy saunter of the town-bred coxcomb. He is the 
darling of hotel-keepers, for he never dines or sups 
out of the house, and eats and drinks and pays like 
a lord. "Ha, Jack, is it you," shouts one to a chum 
whom he meets in Pell-Mell; "how long do you 
stay'Z" "Ten guineas," is the reply, "if you come 
to Venables after the play you'll find Tom Latin, 
Bob Classic, and two or three more." " So 1 your 
servant," rejoins his friend, "for I am off to meet 
the finest girl upon town in the green boxes." They 
haunt the theatre with the Templar, a kindred soul 
with their own, and perhaps just transferred from 
their set to his present position; the briefless bar- 
rister sauntering from tavern to tavern "in silk gown 
and purple slippers," or hurrying from Nandos to 
Covent Garden, to criticise or catcall, and returning 
to George's to show by his harangue that his depth in 
the drama is equal to his shallowness in the law. But 
though their stay in London is a round of diversion, 
its sphere is limited to the play, the gaming-house, 
or the bagnio. This is what one scores on a window 
in an idle fit. "Monday Rode to town in six 
hours ; saw two last acts of Hamlet \ at night with 
Polly Brown. Tuesday Saw Harlequin the Sor- 
cerer j at night with Polly again. Wednesday Saw 
Macbeth ; at night with Sally Parker, Polly engaged. 
Thursday Set out for Oxford a d d muzzy 
place." " 'Tis always Polly with this set of mortals," 
comments Oolman, "till their purse is exhausted, 


and they are forced to exchange tavern and theatre 
for small beer and halfpenny commons." 1 

They returned, however, to something better than 
"small beer and halfpenny commons." The com- 
moner who had been roused to run "with hose 
ungartered " to reach chapel ere the door was closed, 

was nowise reluctant 

To repair 

To friendly buttery ; there on smoking crust 
And foaming ale to unrestrained. 

"Unlike," adds the poet, "the squeamish sons of 
modern times," 2 whose practices compelled Dr. Newton 
to fulminate an edict in Hart Hall against the use 
of tea 3 and coffee, "a fashionable vice which leads 
only to squandering of money and misspending the 
morning in jentacular confabulations." 4 And for those 
who loved more solid potations the Mitre stood 
open, the tavern of the noted "Captain Jolly, who 
pro low publico first reduced the price of porter 
in Oxford from sixpence to fourpence a quart." 
Draughts of his liquor gave a relish to the supper 
of tripe, Mother Spreadbury's sausages, or Ben 
TyrrePs "threepenny mutton pies." Ben Tyrrel had 
the good fortune to attract the attention of the wits 
of the time, and in their verses we can still see 
the motley company that gathered round his board 
on Wednesday and Saturday evenings " at seven 

For thee the citizen and cit 

Their cold boiled beef and carrots quit ; 

Grave aldermen, ambitious, share 


In Alma Mater's classic fore ; 
The blooming toasts of Oxfoid town 
Catch the contagion of the gown, 
And wish the wonted evening nigh 
To "have a finger in the pie." 1 

A time of course came when these joys had to be 
relinquished, when the "one -curled scratch" was 
exchanged by the hands of " Baylis, Blenkinsop, or 
lofty Wise," the noted peruke makers of the time, 
for the " snowy pomp " of the grizzle wig, 2 and fop 
and regular alike sobered down into Dons. But this 
stage of their history we must reserve for future 
notice, when in our account of Oxford's educational 
position we shall be enabled to paint in detail the 
life of a college Fellow. For the present, however, 
our sketches of Oxford university society must cease 
here, but should we be furnished with any additional 
information we shall not hesitate to resume a subject 
whose treatment we hope may have furnished some 
little information as well as entertainment to our 


BEFORE commencing the series of papers in which 
we shall endeavour to illustrate the political life 
of Oxford in the Last Century, we may, perhaps, 
venture, for the sake of variety, to interpose a passing 
account of the transactions, as far as they can be 
gleaned from the newspapers, of the period from 
1774 to 1777. It is impossible in an undertaking of 
this kind to pursue our civic history in strict 
chronological order; deficiency of information will 
necessarily create gaps here and there in our design. 
But this apparent inconsequence may probably give 
us a better notion of our subject than the most 
perfect regularity. The habitual associates of a man 
often know less of his character than one who meets 
him at odd moments, and chats with him at irregular 
intervals. And our desire of seeing this Oxford 
in the Last Century not so much in its daily 
events and weekly details, as in its ordinary life and 
character will probably find its fullest gratification 
in the somewhat irregular plan which we propose to 


Our information as we have said must be 
gleaned from the newspapers of the day. The 
Oxford Journal was probably a superior specimen 
of the provincial press. It -was the lion's mouth, as 
the Spectator would have said, into which members 
of the University poured lucubrations which furnish 
even to the reader of to-day no little amusement 
"Warton did not disdain to turn from odes and 
antiquarian research to immortalise Ben Tyrrel's 
mutton pies, or to parody Gray's Elegy. "Wits 
penned from the coffee-house for Jackson's insertion 
sparkling little ditties on Miss Brickenden or Miss 
Polly Foote. Old Lochard, the newsman, who, bell 
in hand, hawked the Journal through the streets, 
owed to his college patrons not only the "antiquated 
cane" and "rusty grizzle wig," which they had 
thrown by after ten years' service, or the tankard 
at buttery hatch in return for " quick despatches " ; 
but the merry rhymes that every Christmas drew a 
douceur from the tradesman, a "slice of sirloin and 
cup of October" from the squire, or a dram from 
"Mother Baggs." 1 To them we owe the amusing 
detail of tho subjects of the day, 

Each vast event our varied page supplies, 

The fall of princes, and the rise of pies ; 

Patriots and squires learn here with little cost 

Or when a kingdom or a match is lost ; 

Both sexes here approved receipts peruse, 

Hence belles may clean their teeth or beaux their shoes : 

From us informed Britannia's farmers tell 

How Loui&burgh by British thunders fell , 


J Ti* we tliat sound to all the Trump of Fame, 
And babes lisp Amherst's and Boscawen's name, 
All the four quarters of the globe conspire 
Our news to fill, and raise your glory higher. 1 

But spite of this conspiracy of the four quarters of 
tlie globe, the news is hardly what the pampered 
appetites of the present day would call " full." Let 
us turn to a newspaper of the period which we have 
selected. The little poems and epigrams have dis- 
appeared. Their young authors have graduated and 
donned their grizzle-wigs, and have left no successors 
behind them. The little weekly essays which we 
find in the Journal for 1755 have ceased, and 'tis 
only occasionally that a passing jest reminds us of 
""Will Whimsey." Here, however, in the paper 
which we open we are entertained with an epistle 
from "Old Squaretoes." He is bitter on the 
enormous head-dresses of the day; his daughter 
"though in a morning but five feet one inch high, 
yet, by raising herself fifteen inches at top and four 
at bottom, she grows to the amazing height of six 
feet eight by four in the afternoon." A series t)f 
ludicrous adventures follow. A shower overtakes 
the ladies in their promenade, they run for shelter 
to a sentinel's box, " and forgetting the preposterous 
height of their heads, struck them against the top 
of the box with such violence that both fell backwards, 
kicked up their heels, and threw down my wife, whose 
pyramid flew off and was picked up by a taylor's ap- 
prentice who ran away with it." The lesson is in vain; 


Old Squaretoes has hardly concluded his moralising 
when "Mr. Toupee entered the room with three 
bandboxes, each of the size of a child's coffin," and 
the ladies appear "with heads four inches higher 
than their last." A fire, however, destroys these new 
erections, the ladies are left doctoring their scorched 
faces, and with a proposal for a fire-insurance of 
head-dresses, the lively little extravaganza concludes. 

We turn to the news. Foreign politics are summed 
up in a few paragraphs. Eumours of a "rupture 
between Spain and Portugal"; "talk of a grand 
alliance which will greatly alarm the public." The 
American war is in progress, and engagements, 
privateering and naval orders are spun out into a 
couple of meagre columns. The fashionable intel- 
ligence is divided between the turf and the elope- 
ments and scandal of town. Justice is satisfied by 
an account of the execution of a brace of culprits. 
" An abstract of the new Act for the relief of in- 
solvent debtors " fills up the remaining space. Only 
the Oxford news is left. It is exactly four paragraphs. 
We learn that " the Eev. John Williams " has received 
a dispensation to hold a couple of livings at once; 
the marriage of " the Eev. Thomas Eobinson, head 
master of Magdalen College School, to Miss Eebecca, 
daughter of Mr. James Fletcher, of this place, book- 
seller," is succeeded by the death of the Eector of 
Oddington ; and the news ends with an advertisement 
from some itinerant vendor of "likenesses." 1 

To those, however, who would gain a clearer view 


of the social and material conditions of the period, the 
advertisements furnish the -widest field for observa- 
tion. The time had not yet arrived when " advertise- 
ments " had become a regular item in trade expenses, 
and 'tis amusing to see the ingenious devices to 
which advertisers resorted to justify their appear- 
ance before the public. The favourite means were 
a feigned dispute between two of a trade; some- 
times a pretended rumour " to my prejudice " served 
the turn, or the setting up of an apprentice, as a 
rival, was the signal for recriminatory advertise- 
ments. Notices of enclosure grow more and more 
frequent, and prominent among them we see the 
enclosure of Campsfield, that open ground between 
Oxford and Woodstock, which we have noticed 
before as a favourite drive for the Oxford bucks 
and bloods. We can see the traces of that great 
advance of agriculture which began with the acces- 
sion of George III., and which was so soon to 
change for the better the habits of our rural gentry. 
"Twenty-five Inclosure Acts only had passed," says 
Massey, " up to the accession of George II. ; during 
his reign of 33 years, they had increased by 182. 
From 1760 (the accession of the third George) to 
1774 the beginning of our present period upwards 
of 700 Inclosure Acts were obtained"; while the 
passing of 452 Turnpike Acts enormously facilitated 
the communications of the country. In the rural 
districts, as swamps and wastes disappeared, the 
higher classes began to imbibe that love of the 


country which is, at this day, the most creditable 
characteristic of an English, country gentleman. In 
the towns, as we shall afterwards have occasion to 
see in greater detail, the sudden accumulation of 
wealth produced an increased refinement in manners, 
which, in its turn, became the origin of those great 
local improvements which marked the period of 
which we are speaking. But, great as this progress 
was, to those who view this time from our point of 
view rather than from its own, it must necessarily 
seem a period of social barbarism. The police of the 
kingdom was, with the exception of the few Bow 
Street runners, disorganised and ineffective. Riot- 
ous young aristocrats sallied forth to commit the 
grossest insults on either sex without fear of the 
superannuated " Jarvies." Highwaymen robbed not 
only on the outskirts but in the very squares of the 
metropolis, in broad daylight. Runaway soldiers, 
with swords they did not scruple to use, infested 
the highways. " It is noticeable," says a paragraph 
in one of the Oxford Journals, "that most robberies 
are wrought by persons with weapons, to be 
accounted for by the great number of discharged 
soldiers who took to the trade." Men of the highest 
rank were not exempt from these attacks. The 
robbery of Lord Percival was, as we shall soon see, 
one of Dumas' most notable exploits, and in the news 
for March 12, 1774, we find so illustrative an account 
that we insert it at length : "Lord Stanley and 
his brother, coming in a postchaise- and- four from 


Chelsea to town, were stopped by four footpads, two 
of whom seized the horses, and put pistols to the breasts 
of the postilions ; the other two went on each side 
the carriage, and, presenting their pistols, were 
resisted by the Hon. Mr. Stanley, whom one of the 
fellows fired at, on which Lord Stanley seized the 
man on his side by the arm, and wounded him on 
the back of the head with a scymetar. The two 
ruffians at the head of the horses then went to the assist- 
ance of their comrades, when, the postilions driving 
furiously on, the nobleman and his brother escaped 
unhurt, though one of the villains fired a second 
pistol." The neighbourhood of Oxford was haunted 
by similar marauders. Farmer Dover, of Botley, is 
knocked down, on his way home from market, by a 
couple of footpads, near Bulstock Bridge, and only 
rescued by a chance arrival (March 17T5). 1 A couple 
of highwaymen infest the country between Wood- 
stock and Glympton, and count among their many 
exploits "the robbery of two young gentlemen of 
the University, near Campsfield, this side Wood- 
stock." 2 In November 1776, three coaches are 
robbed in the immediate vicinity ; one, indeed, near 
the Eadcliffe Infirmary. 3 The Oxford news for 
December 7, 1776, is enlivened by the following 
paragraph : " On Thursday morning, between five 
and six o'clock, the Bath coach, in which were three 
passengers, was robbed in going up the hill on the 
other side of Bottley, about a mile and a-half from 
this city, by a single highwayman, well mounted, 


who took from Mr. Jonas, the celebrated conjuror, 
his watch and about four guineas. It is more than 
probable that either the suddenness of the demand, 
or the bitter imprecations of the highwayman, might 
so much alarm Mr. Jonas as totally to deprive him of 
his wonderful art of " conveyance," or we can scarcely 
suppose he would have suffered the robber to pocket 
the watch or money, and carry it off." 

It is not the least peculiar feature of the times 
that these deeds of pillage, attended as they often 
were with a combination of cowardice and cruelty 
which it is impossible now to regard with aught but 
disgust, seem at the time to have been looked upon 
with an especial leniency and favour. Highwaymen 
were the heroes of the day. There was a something, 
the ladies would argue, about the dark muffled 
figure, whose horse came splashing up to the toiling 
night-coach, in contemptuous defiance of the shiver- 
ing guard and his lumbering blunderbuss, that 
severed him from the vulgar pilferer of the Old 
Bailey. And the highwaymen, here and there, seem 
to have appreciated and returned the sympathy of 
the fairer sex. Rings and jewels were often ran- 
somed by a kiss, and 'twas reported of Dumas that, 
after capturing a whole coachful of ladies, he was 
satisfied with dancing a coranto with each in turn 
upon the green. The story of this prince of high- 
waymen is connected with our especial subject by 
his execution at Oxford, on Monday, March 23, 1761 
By birth the son of a corkcutter, in Eastcheap, his 


spirit scorned the drudgery of common toil; he 
sought and found company more to his taste, was 
soon enrolled among "the Killers of Care, the 
Silenians, Sons of Nimrod, A.B.C.darians, Snitchers, 
Choice Spirits, Ubiquarians," and every other low 
club of the town, and told his story, sang his song, 
and drank his bottle with the best of them. But 
debauchery and extravagance told fast upon his 
purse, and, to support his mistresses, young Isaac 
DarMns was driven to "the road." His assumed 
name of Dumas soon became the terror of travellers. 
He was sung in Seven Dials, and famed even in 
aristocratic boudoirs. But fame could not protect 
him from mishap. At Chelmsford, in 1758, we find 
him sentenced to death for the robbery of Capt. 
Cockburn, but his youth gained him a reprieve, and 
his sentence was finally commuted to transportation 
for fourteen years. By revealing a plan of escape 
formed by his fellow transports, in short, by peach- 
ing, our hero obtained a pardon on condition of 
serving as a soldier in the Island of Antigua, and, in 
spite of several frustrated attempts at escape, he 
was put on board ship, and conveyed thither. But 
Dumas' destiny was not thus to be evaded. He 
availed himself of the first opportunity of desertion 
to lie in hiding on board a merchant vessel, and, 
eluding the strict search which was made, in the 
disguise of a sailor, soon found himself once more in 
England. His exploits in mid and west England, by 
their daring and ingenuity, attracted on him such 


inconvenient attention from the officers of justice, 
that he was forced to seek for safety by entering as 
a midshipman on board the Royal George. While 
in harbour, however, a leave of absence enabled him 
again to gratify his tastes, and a series of successful 
encounters was crowned by his robbery of Lord 
Percival. For this he was soon brought to trial, but 
an ingenious defence, and the defective proof of 
identity, procured him an acquittal, and he was 
again free " to set out for London in a postchaise." 
While in gaol, his cell had been visited by every 
lady of fashion, and his adventures furnished the 
tea-table chat of the town. They were charmed 
with the elegance of his person, the neatness of his 
dress, and the gaiety with which he enlivened his 
prison, But the sympathy of the sex was soon to 
prove fatal to him. He had directed letters to some 
of his female friends from an inn whose owner was 
postmaster of the district, and his abode thus dis- 
covered, a robbery near Nettlebed lodged him in 
Oxford gaol. He maintained his nonchalance to the 
end, played " Macheath " in the prison, and threw 
himself off at the gallows without troubling the 
executioner. His age was but twenty -one at his 
death, and his booty already amounted to 600. A 
striking mark of popular sympathy followed his end. 
He had declared that be feared not death but the 
thought of being anatomized, and, at his execution, 
a large body of bargemen surrounded the scaffold, 
and carried off his body in triumph to the next 


parish church, " where," says the account in the Gentle- 
man's Magazine, from which this is condensed, " while 
some rang the bells, others opened the belly, filled 
it with unslack'd lime, and then buried the body." * 

As interesting a culprit to the higher classes in 
Oxford was Le Maitre, a French master of tambour 
and similar accomplishments, who, in 1776, gained 
considerable notoriety by pillaging the Ashmolean 
Museum of a great number of antiquities, medals, 
etc., to the amount of ,100. Being arrested at 
Dublin, he was sentenced, at the Oxford assizes, to 
five years' hard labour, and is next heard of as the 
originator of a nearly-successful attempt at escape, 
which throws light on the condition of the Oxford 
prisons at the time. "With the aid of four, who were 
confined in the same cell, the wall was undermined 
by a few faggot-sticks and an holdfast taken from 
the pump, the hole was covered with a few mats, 
and confederates waited without to file their fetters. 2 
The plan was discovered on the very eve of its com- 
pletion, but justice was not always so fortunate. In 
the autumn of the previous year two women had 
succeeded in cutting through the bars of their window, 
and escaped into the road which ran beside ; 3 and in 
1775 a prisoner, himself under sentence for assisting 
a culprit to break prison, was killed by a fall in his 
attempt to escape. 4 

Such attempts, indeed, were common in every 
prison in the kingdom. The dilapidated condition 
of the buildings offered every temptation. And 


within was every means of plotting and facilitating 
an escape. The interior of a prison of that time, 
whether we trust the statements of the novelist or 
the philanthropist, was nothing short of a hell upon 
earth. The vilest and most profligate were left free 
to reduce the less experienced criminals to their own 
degradation. Criminals herded together in noisome 
cells, where the most foul crimes were connived 
at by the gaolers, who were themselves scarce 
"better than the felons they guarded. These, treated 
like beasts, turned like beasts upon their keepers. 
Prisons were sometimes broken open by a revolt 
from within. The terrible Newgate riot of 1775 
needed the presence of troops to quell it. The 
same policy exhibited itself in those fearful penal 
laws which were in their full vigour at this period. 
Every assize saw the punishment of death recorded 
for crimes the most unequal in their nature, for the 
villain who had taken his benefactor's life, and the 
bankrupt who had fraudulently concealed his goods. 
The same want of equity distinguished the punish- 
ments of the pillory. " All secondary offences, from 
crimes too abominable to name down to libels and 
breaches of the peace, were punished by the pillory," 
says Mr. Massey. But the occasions of its use in 
Oxford during the latter part of this century seem 
to have been rare; indeed, only one is recorded in 
the public prints, the punishment of Edward Clark, 
for keeping a house of ill -fame, November 1774. 1 
Men still living can remember the last instance of 


its exercise in, we believe, 1810, when one Tubb 
stood in the pillory for perjury. The pillory 1 seems 
to have been placed near the Cross Inn, in North 
Grate or Cornmarket Street. Another, 2 which at a 
very distant period stood in company with a cross, 
gallows, and stocks 3 at the corner of Magdalen Grove, 
looking up Holywell, recalls to us the time when 
the north side of that street stood alone, when the 
south side and Long "Wall were as yet but the city 
ditch, and the manor, with its judicial rights, beyond 
the wall was the property of Bogo de Clare. 4 But, 
if the gallows and pillory were more plentiful in the 
Middle Ages, the culprit then possessed a privilege 
which civilization has long robbed him of the right 
of sanctuary. Behind All Saints' churchyard stood 
Broadgate Hall, 5 where, in 1463, Mr. Hill, one of the 
proctors, coming to seize " one J. Harry, a tailor, of 
Oxon, who had stabbed a man," "upon information 
given to him that it was a place privileged of old time 
by the Pope, and claim laid to the said privilege by 
the Master and Convent of St. John's Hospital, the 
man at length, upon some small security given, found 
the benefit of the place, and was dismissed." 6 The 
privilege in this case seems to have fallen into desue- 
tude about 1530. In Wood's time, the vestiges of a 
sanctuary, near St. Edward's Church, " did not long 
ago remain in a townsman's ground abutting down 
from the High Street to Tresham's Lane.'? 7 A sanctu- 
ary of greater interest will, in our next number, 
introduce us to the more especial consideration of 


the civic affairs of Oxford in the period which we 
are treating. 

Minor offences were visited with punishments 
which men still living can remember the stocks on 
the Butter-bench, 1 or a whipping at the cart's tail. 
The last was a practice as useless as it was disgusting, 
for, as we have learned from one who had himself 
seen this punishment inflicted, " though dragged the 
whole length of the Cornmarket and back again, the 
culprit scarce ever received more than one effective 
stroke, in consequence of the throng and pressure of 
the crowd around." But one consequence of the 
severity of the penal code was the jurisdiction which 
the populace themselves exercised. Pickpockets, 
taken in the fact, seldom made their appearance at 
Sessions , they were usually dragged to the nearest 
pond or pump, and ducked while any sign of life 
remained. The same rude justice, as many must 
remember, was extended to those whose religious 
tenets offended the sovereign mob. Young thieves 
and minor offenders were usually let off with a 
thrashing. But enough withal remained to make 
the office of Eecorder no sinecure In noticing the 
resignation of this office in the year 1776, 2 by 
" Thomas Francis Wenman, Esq.," and the unanimous 
election of " John Skinner, Esq., of Little Milton, 
one of the Justices of the Principality of "Wales," 
we must conclude this, we confess, somewhat mis- 
cellaneous paper. 


THE Sanctuary to which we referred afc tlie con- 
clusion of our last number was the Sanctuary at East 
Grate. The friars of the order of the Holy Trinity 
for the Redemption of Captives, who had been 
settled in the little chapel by its side, by the patron- 
age of Edmund, son of Richard, Earl of Cornwall, 
were cut off to a man in the pestilence of 1351, and 
the chapel eventually lapsed to the city. Here the 
new Mayor who, by the charter of Henry III,, 
claimed, with the chief magistrate of London, the 
honour of a formal presentation to the Barons of the 
Exchequer for confirmation in his new office, was 
accustomed on his return over the long and rude 
" Petty Pont," 1 which has given place to the present 
Magdalen bridge, to stop and return thanks to God 
for his safe return, leaving, at the same time, an 
alms on the altar upon which a little taper or lamp 
burnt night and day. On quitting the chapel the 
Mayor was received by the townsmen, assembled in 
their trades, and "conducted into the city with great 
huzzaing and rejoicings." 2 


In the elections for 1774, Mr. Samuel Culley was 
chosen Mayor ; Mr. Thomas Jones and Mr. Richard 
Hayes, Chamberlains of the city. 1 The next year 
presents us with the name still honoured in its con- 
nection with civic offices, in the unanimous election 
of "Mr. William Thorpe, the junior assistant of this 
city," to the Mayoralty, while Mr. William Fidler 
and Mr. Richard Western were appointed bailiffs. 2 
The mention of a family which still remains to us 
cannot fail to recall some of those which hare long 
perished and decayed. The Chillingworths have 
gone, yet the most acute of all our philosophers was 
the son of a Mayor of Oxford. Sir William 
D'Avenant reminds us that it was during the 
mayoralty of his father, that Shakespear used to 
stop at the Crown, on his way to Stratford, 3 but the 
very name has died out of Oxford now. Here and 
there indeed local denominations recall the memory 
of old civic families passed away. Yet of the thou- 
sands who speak of Peckwater Quad, how many 
remember that it is so called from occupying the 
site of the old house of Radulph Peckwether, one of 
an illustrious line, who was Provost or chief magis- 
trate of Oxford in the reign of Henry III. And the 
gradual change of names is already obliterating even 
these slight vestiges. Pembroke Street has even 
recently superseded the old " Pennyfarthing " Street, 
the street that commemorated the name of the great 
burgher-family, the Penyverthings, of whom one was 
Provost in Henry the Third's time. The name of a 


tavern has driven from Ship Street the title of 
Burewald's Lane, which it owed to the wealthy 
family which ended in Dionysia Burewald, 1 the 
foundress of a chauntry in St. Michael's Church, for 
the souls of those of her name, "especially of 
Gilbert and Eadulph, men of great possessions in 
Oxford." These, however, had themselves super- 
seded the designation which it had before derived 
from the Dewys, a family of early note in Oxford 
history, and whose name seems to have lingered on 
to our own times. The same transmutations were 
the fate of other streets ; the lane from " Bocardo 
to New Inn Hall " was Bedford Lane, from burgesses 
of that name in the first Edward's time and then 
Adynton's Lane, from that Stephen Adynton, who 
was seven times Mayor at a much later period. But 
not seldom lane and name have perished together. 
Improvements have banished Kepeharme's Lane, 2 
which ran from Fish Street (St. Aldate's) into the 
Butcher-row, and with it all memory of the great 
family that, like the Segrims, whose tenements were 
blotted out by Wolsey's Hospital, held civic offices 
in Oxford before the Conquest, and the wife of one 
of whose descendants, Alice, had to offer to King 
John one hundred marcs and two palfreys for 
liberty to re-marry. 3 

Mr. Edward Lock was the Mayor for 1776; the 
Chamberlains being Mr. William Hyde and Mr. 
William Jones. 4 The elections of the old Corpora- 
tions were scenes of bribery and riot. The poor 


freeman thought himself entitled to his half-guinea 
and bottle of gin. In A. Wood's time, we find him 
recording, "Anthony Hall, vintner, chosen Mayor, 
at which some young scholars and servitors being 
present, heard his speech of thanks out of the 
balcony, viz. that he thanked them for their choice 
of him that he could not speak French nor 
Spanish, but if they would walk to the Bear they 
should find that he could speak English, meaning 
give them English ale and beer." l At this date, how- 
ever (1679), the powers of the office were wielded 
with a severity which would astonish the burgess 
of the present day. In recording the Mayoralty of 
Robert Pauling, draper, Wood observes, " Whereas 
all Mayors in memory of man used to be mealy- 
mouthed and fearful of executing their office for fear 
of losing trade, this person is not, but walks in the 
night to take townsmen in tippling houses, prohibits 
coffee to be sold on Sundays, which Dr. Nicholas, 
Vice-Chancellor, prohibited till after evening prayer, 
viz. till five o'clock." 2 But spite of these extensive 
powers and vexatious interferences, the Mayor seems 
to have had little control over the riotous inclina- 
tions of his townsmen. Indeed, election-time was 
particularly selected for the noisiest demonstrations. 
The election of Anthony Hall, which we have 
noticed above, was the signal for a prolonged "Town 
and Gown," between the servitors and the populace, 
which continued amid breakages of arms and heads 
for the space of a week, till appeased by the Vice- 


Chancellor and Proctors. 1 Here and there, too, the 
latent opposition, which always existed towards the 
High Church Tory Corporation, manifested itself in 
acts of violence. Xot ten years after the Revolution 
of 1GS8, we find the Puritan, or Whig party, carry- 
ing the Townclerkship against the united powers of 
the Earl of Abingdon and the Corporation, and cele- 
brating their victory with bonfires and " ringing of 
bells at night." And at the elections of the same 
year the mob wandered about the city, breaking the 
windows of the officers of the corporation. " These," 
says Wood, "are the fanatical or factious sort, and 
shew what they will do when they are in authority." 2 
We may be pardoned for wearying our readers 
with details so distant and seemingly unimportant 
as these, when it is considered that these revolts of 
the populace were in fact protests, very noisy protests, 
Against the system of corporate government, or mis- 
government, which was then gradually approaching 
that uncontested supremacy which it enjoyed in the 
eighteenth century. Without dwelling on the minute 
features of the system which the Municipal Reform 
Act swept once and for ever away on the narrow 
suffrages, the disgraceful bribery, the close family 
patronage, which were necessary for its support, it 
may be well for those who, perhaps not unnaturally 
irritated by the disagreeables of the system which 
that reform established, and influenced, in addition, 
by that very pardonable prejudice which throws an 
air of sanctity over all that is past, are now and 


then driven to a cry of regret for " the old corpora- 
tion," to consider the pitiful position in which that 
regime placed the city with respect to the great 
noblemen whose possessions surrounded it. 

Of these families the first which we find in intimate 
connection with the corporate affairs of the city was 
that of the Berties. In 1682 "Wood records the joy 
of the Tory party at the elevation of their head. 
" Bonfires made in several parishes in Oxford by the 
Tory party after supper for joy that the Lord N orris 
was made Earl of Abingdon, with the ringing of 
bells. Several colleges had bonfires, All Souls' 
especially. About 11 at night they brought out a 
barrel of beer out of the cellar, and drank it in 
healths on their knees to the Duke of York and 
Earl of Abingdon out of the buckets that hung up 
in the hall. They got about twenty of the trained 
bands of Oxford, who discharged at the drinking of 
every health. They had wine in great plenty from the 
tavern over the way, guarded by a file of musqueteers ; 
they had a drummer that beat round the college quad- 
rangle and at the gate." 1 The Earl's Toryism had 
given him the lord lieutenancy of the county, and in 
Monmouth's rebellion, two years later, we find him 
at the head of the troop of 60 horse which was 
raised by the University, 2 committing suspected 
Puritans amongst others our severe friend Robert 
Pauling to the Castle, 3 and training the volunteers 
in Broken Heyes 4 or Christ Church Meadow. 5 But 
loyalty so vehement as this was soon destined to be 


shaken. The Earl was one of the first to welcome 
William of Orange, and his gratuJations were seconded 
by the University. The Tory meddling, however, 
continued still The contest for Town Clerk in 1694 
was decided in favour of Thurston against Slatford, 
"by the endeavour of James Earl of Abingdon, who 
got several country gentlemen that were of the house 
to give votes for the said Thurston. The Commons, 
enraged at it, spoke vilely of the Earl of Abingdon 
and his son, called them Jacobites. He laid in 
town that night, went next day to the Bishop's 
lodgings, at Magdalen College, in the company of 
one or two constables to prevent abuses." 1 The 
wrath of the "Commons" the Earl could afford to 
despise, but the internal opposition which the family 
influence experienced from the corporation must 
have been more trying to his patience. In 1732, 
Hearne tells us of my Lord's driving in a coach 
from Kycot to put up Air. Lawrance, the chandler, 
against Mr. Nibb, upholsterer, for the office 
of Mayor's assistant; but the drive was in 
vain, and the Earl had to entertain his supporters 
at dinner afterwards with what good humour he 
might 2 

By the middle of this century, however, the liycot 
was fast being superseded by the Blenheim influence. 
The great Duke, the rise of whose stately palace had 
been viewed with such malignant eyes by his Tory 
neighbours (Hearne lias handed down to us the 
exultation of the common-room at the news that the 


fine stones of the new buildings were already crack- 
ing with the frost; 1 was too busy in his intrigues, 
too miserly in his expenditure, to meddle in the 
civic elections. Violent Duchess Sarah seems to 
have confined herself to occasional presents of a buck 
to the TThig heads. But the eighteenth century was 
the great sera of what Disraeli has called " Venetian " 
government The great oligarchic families were 
straining every nerve to secure a "following" in the 
corrupt House of Commons. Nobles forced their 
way into the cabinet by a simple enumeration of 
the votes at their disposal. Immense sums were 
lavished on contested elections. Yorkshire grew 
famous as the insatiable quagmire that engulfed 
the mortgaged acres of its battling landholders ; but 
simple boroughs proved often as ravenous. The 
Spencers, who squandered nearly 100,000 on the 
Northampton election, were only one out of three 
great families that retired crippled from the con- 
test. Corruption was practised without disguise; 
indeed one member openly proposed in the House to 
repeal the Bribery Act. " Arnold Nesbitt, Esq.," says 
a paragraph in one of these Osfojd Jownals, M.P. 
for Cricklade, "made a present of ten guineas each to 
the voters in his interest at the late general election, 
and likewise entertained them with a genteel dinner." 2 
At the Hindon contest, a man, supposed to be a clergy- 
man, in a fantastic female habit, called c the dancing 
Punch,' presents each voter with five guineas, and 
distributes larger sums to all that call at his iun.^ 


TTorcester saw its members elected, unseated, re-elected 
and unseated again for the most flagrant bribery, yet a 
third election secured them in their seats. 

The llarlboroughs, like their fellows, aspired to be 
boroughmongers. They had already gamed a footing 
in the county, they nominated the two members for 
their borough of \Voodstock, and an opportunity at 
length arrived for securing one of the seats for 
Oxford, The borough representation had, at this 
time, fallen practically into the hands of the corpora- 
tions. The vilest means, bribery, drink, abused 
influence, were employed to secure the comparatively 
small body of freemen, who alone possessed the 
right of suffrage. Should these fail, the corporation 
could increase its power by a new charter, such as, 
in 1774, was granted to Abingdon. It was welcomed 
with a Mayor's feast, drink was distributed to the 
populace, bonfires kindled in the Market-place, and 
the bells set ringing. 1 But the grant was a mere 
election dodge. The roll of electors was in the 
hands of overseers, who were chosen by two justices, 
and the appointment of the latter was, by this 
charter, vested in the corporation. In other words, 
the list of electors was at its mercy. A creation of 
u beggar " voters soon followed. "Mr. Bayley and 
the dissenters " (we suppose political dissenters) were 
routed in the choice of Mayor, and the next election 
saw a nominee of the corporation sent, as their repre- 
sentative, 10 Parliament. 2 

The corporation of Oxford were encumbered with 


debts, and saw in the approaching election of 1768 
a means of freeing them from their embarrassments. 
But the offer which they made to their members to 
return them for the sum of 7500, ended in a repri- 
mand from the Speaker and a committal to Newgate. 
During the five days of their confinement, however, 
it was rumoured that the bargain which had failed 
with Lee and Stapylton had been successfully con- 
cluded with the Duke of Marlborough and Lord 
Abingdon. 1 The year following saw the city debt 
of about 6000 liquidated by the Duke, 2 and (1771) 
the elevation of Sergeant Nares to the Bench, gave 
a seat to his brother. Lord Robert Spencer. For the 
subsequent half -century the city became the mere 
nomination borough of the Duke and corporation. 
The honour, however, if honour it were, was not 
purchased cheaply. Eighty taverns were opened at 
the Duke's expense, and a collation provided for the 
corporation, when the debt was satisfied by the sale 
of the representation. 3 Into these "collations" had 
the old city feast dwindled, just as the city itself 
seems to have shrunk into the corporation. A. Wood 
recalls to us some of these old entertainments, which 
would seem to have promoted a feeling of fellowship 
among their partakers. The citizens met in the 
Town Hall, "marched thence very orderly, in 
number about 440 " (the time was 1669) "down the 
High-street, with a minister before them, had a 
sermon in the church of St. Peter-in-the-East, preached 
by Bob. Field, M. A., born in Grope-lane, 4 in St Mary's 


parish, and, retiring to the Hall again, had a noble 
entertainment : which done 3 there was a collection 
made to bind out two or more boys apprentices." 1 
This seems to have been the first feast of the kind, 
though many afterwards are recorded in his pages. 
Open entertainments, indeed, were everywhere given 
to the freemen on the eve of elections. At Wootten 
Bassett, the Mayor presided while two fat oxen, the 
gift of the members, were distributed among the 
electors, and a third was roasted whole for their 
diversion. 2 Every civic necessity occasioned an appeal 
to the purses of its representatives. The members 
for Windsor, in 1774, are "honourably mentioned" 
for their present of 500 to the corporation, towards 
defraying the expenses of the new pavement of the 
town. 3 The Maryborough interest in the county was 
maintained after the same fashion by a sumptuous 
ball at Blenheim, "Lord Robert Spencer and Miss 
Yernon began the minuets"; whence the ladies, 
returning at four in the morning, "in passing through 
the park, expressed uncommon transport on be- 
holding the glorious appearance of a rising sun " ; - 4 
or by grosser entertainments to 225 tenants and 
other fanners, in the greenhouse, at Blenheim, where 
they were treated with " 128 dishes, exclusive of vege- 
tables, etc, ; 300 bottles of port wine, 52 bottles of rum 
made into punch, besides an indefinite quantity of ale 
and strong beer," 5 which tells well for the heads of the 
freeholders. Nor were the more indirect means 
neglected. The members and their patrons were 


expected to subscribe munificently to local charities 
and subscriptions, and, amongst other contributors, we 
find Peshall mentioning Lord Abingdon, u who then 
lived in Mr. Hacker's house,' 1 as a principal bene- 
factor to the new gallery at St. Peter's-in-the-East. 1 

But the heaviest demands on their charity were 
occasioned by the extreme destitution which was 
caused by the severity of the winters of this period 
and the high war-prices of provisions, wheat being 
at forty shillings per quarter. The distress was not 
confined to Oxford. At Westbury the members 
contributed in large donations, and the corporation of 
Abingdon granted 50 for the relief of the necessi- 
tous poor. 2 Fifty guineas were given by the Duke 
of Marlborough, in 1776, to be distributed in bread 
to the poor in general ; and twice that amount was 
subscribed by the members for the city, Lord Robert 
Spencer and Mr. Bertie, for the relief of the free- 
men. 3 Similar contributions seem to have been 
made at every inclement season, accompanied with 
gratuitous distributions of coal and fuel. The most 
stringent regulations were at the same time made to 
enforce the ridiculous statutes against " Forestalling 
and regrating," and, by an official assize of bread in 
the winter of 1775, the penny loaf (wheaten) was 
fixed at 9 oz. 4 dr., while the price of the wheaten 
quartern loaf was settled at 6Jd. 4 


THE prerogative of the corporation was not solely 
employed in fixing the assize of bread. We find a 
curious instance of its exercise in the case of inocu- 
lation. The small -pox has, by the discovery of 
Jenner, been rendered so comparatively innocuous, 
that we can scarcely realise to ourselves the intense 
consternation which the mere mention of the scourge 
produced. The slightest rumour of its presence in 
any locality was deemed a pernicious libel, and 
judged worthy of the most authoritative contradic- 
tion. The surgeons of Wallingford advertise their 
protest against the rumour that it has broken out 
there. 1 June 24, 1775, "The minister, church- 
warden, overseer, and principal inhabitants of 
Chipping Norton do hereby certify that the small- 
pox is not in the said town, and that those belong- 
ing to it who have had this disorder were, before 
they became infectious, removed to the pest-house, 
and are now quite recovered. 1 ' The vicar and 
inhabitants of "Watlington certify to the freedom 
of their parish from the infection. 2 At the same 


time, the new remedy of inoculation, which Lady 
Mary Montague had introduced from the East, 
was viewed in many quarters with disgust and in- 
credulity. Hosts of doctors, some of whom seem to 
have been little removed from quacks, opened houses 
for the reception of patients. Mr Sampson, of 
Begbroke, "who has inoculated near two thousand 
without the loss of a single patient, inoculated his 
third company for this season"; Mr. Bristow, of 
Begbroke, "receives a succession of patients for in- 
oculation at his house at Jericho, near this city, where 
they are carried through that disease with the 
utmost safety by his approved and most successful 
method '' ; l but those in authority, at least, remained 
unconverted. The prohibition which was fulminated 
in the year 1774 is too great a curiosity not to be 
preserved entire: "Whereas attempts have been 
made to inoculate persons for the small-pox within 
the University and City of Oxford, to the great 
terror of the inhabitants, we, the Vice-Chancellor 
and Mayor of the said University and City, do 
hereby will and command that, for the future, no 
attempt of this kind be made, nor inoculation prac- 
tised within the said University and City. And 
likewise we hereby do give notice that if any person 
or persons shall henceforth inoculate in private 
houses, or shall take into their respective houses 
patients under inoculation, or shall let or make use 
of any houses within the said University and City to 
inoculate patients therein, such person or persons 


offending in any or either of those cases wi]l be 
prosecuted as the law directs. Given under our 
hands, Tho. Futliergill, Vice - Chancellor ; Sam. 
Culley, Mayor/'' 1 These thunderers, however, seem 
to have roused a spirit of opposition. "Mr. Sutton, 
just returned from France," advertises that he 
"intends to inoculate in Oxford and its neighbour- 
hood this vrinter, notwithstanding any attempts to 
impede his practice." 2 

Interferences such as these, absurd as they seem 
to us, were too much in harmony with the countless 
other restrictions of the time to seem out of place 
in the eighteenth century. Sumptuary laws still 
forbade the use of metal buttons, and ladies were 
dragged, by common informers, before the Lord 
Mayor, and fined, for appearing in chintz dresses. 
The law meddled equally with workman and em- 
ployer. The one was liable to imprisonment for a 
" strike ; " the other to a heavy penalty for exceed- 
ing the wages prescribed by statute. The old and 
cumbrous machinery of trade -companies, obsolete 
as it had grown, still retained a lingering vitality. 
"K Elliot, Master of the Guild or Fraternity of 
Cordwainers," advertises a reward of five guineas to 
any one who will discover any of the journeymen on 
strike in May 1776. 3 A general combination for 
increase of wages seems to have been formed at 
this time, for immediately above this advertisement 
appears another, which gives us the names of the 
master tailors of the time in Oxford. " Twenty or 


thirty journeymen taylors " are advertised for by 
"Thomas Joy, P. Rice, Richard West, Fred. Rogers, 
Win. Fidler, Thomas Benwell, Wm. Davenport, 
John Giles, Joseph Harpur, Edward Hitehins." 1 
The last of these, a name of future eminence in the 
city, had but recently (as appears from his first 
advertisement, October 20, 1775) succeeded to the 
business of Mr. Herne, and his commencement was 
almost contemporaneous with that of Mr. Deodatus 
Eaton, another well-known name, who, in the suc- 
ceeding week, advertises that "in partnership with 
his brother-in-law, W. Thompson," he has suc- 
ceeded to his mother's business as a wood and 
coal merchant. 2 

The Company of Taylors, to which these trades- 
men belonged, took the lead among the Oxford guilds. 
"No less than eight kings, eleven dukes, forty-one 
earls, with many hundreds of gentlemen of family 
and fortune/* had, it boasted, been admitted as 
honorary members of the fraternity. In March 
1776, we find thus admitted the Hon. Peregrine 
Bertie, Sir Narborough D'Aeth, and Francis Brown- 
sword Bullock, Esq. ; while John Walley, Esq., pre- 
sented the society with a handsome piece of plate. 3 
But, great as the guild was, it yielded in antiquity 
to the shoemakers, though both claimed priority 
over the glovers and mercers. So, at least, did the 
Common Council determine, when consulting on 
the order of the procession which was to welcome 
King James the Second. "These companies 


glovers, cordwainers, taylors, and mercers," says 
Anthony a TVood, "went on foot. At the end of 
each company was the master thereof, with his 
gowne on. Each company went apart by themselves, 
and had a flagge or ensigne, containing the arms 
of the company or corporation painted on them. 
The Taylors, who were most numerous, had two 
flaggs, one containing their arms, another" here 
the account ends in asterisks. 1 One company seems 
even at this early date to have slipped into non- 
entity the Company of Barbers. These, Peshall 
tells us, " at their first incorporation, at the order of 
Dr. North wade, then Vice-Chancellor of the University, 
agreed that they would yearly keep and maintain a 
light before our Lady in our Lady's chapel in St. 
Frideswide's church ; for the sure continuance of 
which every man or woman of the same profession, 
that kept a shop, should pay two pence every quarter, 
two journeymen a penny, and to keep it always burn- 
ing, under the pain of 6s. 8d." 2 This, which continued 
till the Reformation, was only one of the many lights 
which testified at once to the opulence and piety of 
the crafts. In the orders of the glovers (1461) 
they are bound to find a light in All Hallows' 
church, in the Trinity chapel, "namely, 8 tapers and 
6 torches, to be honestly kept to the praise of the 
Holy Trinity." All Hallows, or All Saints' church, 
was the religious centre of the Company of Glovers. 
In this chapel of the Trinity, on its south side, 
which had been founded by J. Stodely, a glover, and 


several times Mayor of this City, in the 14th century, 
the guild was accustomed to celebrate mass on 
Trinity Sunday for the good estate of the glovers. 
The mass was silenced at the Reformation, but, in 
another little chapel, on the same side of the church, 
which John Berry, Mayor of the City, and warden of 
the company, had erected in the reign of Henry the 
Eighth, for a mass priest to pray for their welfare, 
the change of religion, which so soon followed, did 
not abolish the whole commemoration, but com- 
muted the mass into prayers on the Trinity Monday, 
immediately before the guild proceeded to the election 
of its officers, and to this the benefaction of Alder- 
man Southam added a sermon, which, says Peshall, 
writing in 1773, "they have now besides praying as 
formerly." 1 Most, indeed, of the older churches, 
within the walls, preserved, even to late times, the 
memories of the trade fraternities. On the south 
side of All Hallows 7 church stood the chapel of Our 
Lady, built by the Cordwainers ; 2 and, in the upper 
window of the south aisle of old St. Martin's, the 
painting of a pair of tailor's shears remained, in 
memory of the foundation of a chauntry in that 
church by the craft of tailors, for "a priest, that 
should pray for their welfare, at a yearly stipend of 
3: 16s." 3 

Another company which the lapse of time had 
long since extinguished was the craft of weavers; 
and it affords a curious instance ol the mutations 
(the whole story of which is itself so curious and 


entertaining) of locality and trade in Oxford to know 
that in old times barges came heavily laden up the 
Cherweli to Parry's Mead, 1 ground now enclosed in 
the limits of Magdalen College Meadow, where 
seventy fullers and weavers abode, and twenty-three 
looms were busily at work. This peculiar segrega- 
tion if we may use the term of a trade was char- 
acteristic of the crafts of the middle ages. Not to 
look abroad to the great towns of mediseval Italy, 
where this system had its fullest development, we 
find the relics of this severance of trade from trade 
long lingering at least in the names of our own 
streets and localities. " Sched-yard " Street, 2 the 
present Oriel Lane, preserved in its very title the 
memory of a time when, as appears from records 
still preserved, it was solely inhabited by "Parch- 
menors, exemplars, luminars, and bocbynders," 
the several divisions of what we should now perhaps 
roughly call the craft of booksellers and stationers. 
The same craft seem to have inhabited the street 
which has passed through the titles of St. Mildred's, 
Cheney, Jesus, and Market Street. Drapers' Hall, 
which stood in the Bailey, near St. Martin's, long 
commemorated the "Drapery," within whose bounds 
it was built Fishmongers' Hall received its name 
from the company, whose arms were still remaining 
in its windows in A- Wood's time, and the residence 
of whose craftsmen had given to the street in which 
it stood the present St. Aldate's the name of 
Fish Street A little bridge on the way to Osney 


recalled by its appellation of "Bocbynders' Bridge" 
some settlement of a craft which probably flourished 
in the vicinity of the great Abbey. The tailors had 
their shops in the Xorth-east Ward, in St. Michael's 
parish, whence, on St. John Baptist's eve, they 
sallied in procession to the sound of musical instru- 
ments, trolling out ancient songs in honour of their 
craft and its patron, and returning after a circuit 
of the streets to the jovial mirth of their revel. 1 
Other companies seem to have had similar revels 
and processions, which, picturesque as they appear 
at the distance of centuries, seem in reality to have 
afforded scenes of riot and murder so outrageous as 
to necessitate their suppression by a Eoyal missive to 
the Chancellor. 

But we have wandered so far into antiquity that 
we may gladly allow the mention of these revels to 
lead us back to the more modern times of which we 
are treating, and to the fairs and wakes which had 
superseded them. The fair of St. Frideswide, whose 
memory is still annually kept up by the cakestall which 
adorns St. Aldate's, the great fair during the seven 
days of whose continuance the custody of the city 
was given up into the hands of the monastery, the 
town courts were closed in favour of the Steward's 
Piepowder Court, and the keys of the gates ren- 
dered by the Mayor to the Prior had, even in A. 
Wood's time, fallen "almost to nothing." 2 The 
Austin fair, which the Augustin friars had held on 
the site of the present Wadham College, had been 


long forgotten. Fairs, therefore, in the sense of 
resorts for traffic, there was none. Two wakes how- 
ever remained ; the one Gloucester Green, 1 the other 
St. Giles's. Of the latter we find no mention a 
chance war of advertisements gives us a passing 
peep into the first. AVe see "the usual and accus- 
tomed pastime of backsword playing," the disorderly 
mob, the "informer" singled out and chased across 
the Green. 2 In presence of such scenes we fail to 
perceive the justice of Salmon's eulogium "The 
people of the place are more civilised than the 
inhabitants of any other town in Great Britain." 3 
They were probably neither better nor worse than 
the citizens of "the other towns." It was, despite 
its material progress, a rough and rude state of 
society, governed by feelings and sympathies differ- 
ing widely from our own. We need not shrug our 
shoulders too complacently when our eye is met by 
constant advertisements of cock-fighting; when the 
"Pit" in Holywell is seen to be as established an 
amusement as the Bull-ring in Spain ; when the news- 
paper chronicles, as an edifying feat, the "drinking 
three quarts of ale in three minutes " by a labourer 
at the Observatory; 4 or the constant "deaths from 
drink" that testify to the prevalence of the vice. 
Ladies have their vices now, though we should stare 
to hear as Hearne tells us then of the death of a 
canon's wife at Christ Church from overlove of the 
brandy bottle, 5 or of attempts at suicide by ladies of 
rank from inability to pay their gambling debts. 


If again and again we are horrified in perusing the 
tedious records of the time to find the constant out- 
rages which were perpetrated against old women 
on the ground of "witchcraft"; the stripping and 
weighing against the church Bible; the tying of 
hands to feet and hurling into the neighbouring 
pond ; we must remember that a century has 
elapsed, that we boast of our educational advance, 
and yet that the belief in witchcraft lingers still 
in our rural districts. A recollection of the fearful 
immorality which still prevails in the mining counties 
may perhaps soften our abhorrence of the brutal 
jocular carelessness with which the papers of the 
time treat that most brutal of all outrages on 
decency, the sale of a wife. Such sales were then 
frequent enough. TVe have before us one at Leeds, 
where the ceremony was attended by one thousand 
spectators, and the bargain concluded for twenty-one 
guineas, a sum usual in these cases, and which proves 
that the parties concerned could not at any rate 
plead ignorance or poverty in excuse. In justice to 
ourselves, indeed, we must own that we have at any 
rate shamed vice out of its outrageous publicity. A 
mistress is not now regarded as the ordinary ap- 
pendage of a gentleman's household , wives are not 
lent " by an eminent tradesman " to his comrade for 
a night , women do not (as we find one in the year 
1775) marry in but an undergarment with the notion 
of thus getting rid of their debts ; 1 nor do husbands 
advertising for a wife who has eloped promise the 


person who is " so obliging as to bring her back to 
her husband the first night's lodging with her in his 
house." l IS the times have not grown more virtuous, 
they have at least grown more shamefaced. 

In concluding this account of the three years, we 
have only to notice the few physical phenomena 
which they presented. The shock of an earthquake, 
which was distinctly felt in September 1775, WHS 
soon followed by a storm of such violence as to be 
without parallel in the memory of those then living. 
Roofs were torn off, chimneys shattered, and holes 
perforated in the ground by the lightning. 2 The 
more prominent event during the period, however, 
was the great flood of 1774. Four days and nights 
of incessant rain rendered the temporary footbridge 
which supplied the place of Magdalen Bridge, then 
in process of re -erection, impassable; the roads 
were covered, and communications carried on in 
boats; St. Thomas's church was filled with water 
for a week, and service interrupted ; while a land- 
slip of an acre of ground, on the south side of Shot- 
over, shifted one hundred yards into the valley 
beneath. 3 

IN the Papers which have already appeared we have 
endeavoured to present to our readers the Oxford of 
the Last Century in its social aspects. "We have 
painted the university of the time, its servitors and 
poor scholars, its rakes and debauchees we have 
whispered the toasts in Merton gardens, and sipped 
punch in the coffee-house and, passing on to de- 
scriptions more purely civic, we have gleaned from 
paragraphs, but too brief and few, some notion of the 
tradesman of the day, of the drunken voter, the 
useless watch, the pillory, and the gaol. In future 
papers we shall, it is hoped, be enabled to fill up 
these sketches in still greater detail ; the series which 
will follow on the educational position of Oxford will 
open up an interesting side of her social life in the 
sketch of "the Don" of that day, "steeped in 
prejudice and port"; while Papers similar to those 
which have just come to a close will little by little 
enable us to realise more completely the every-day 
life of the shop and the counter. 

But this though the more interesting aspect to 


us was not, it must be remembered, the aspect in 
which Oxford appeared to the England of the time. 
Xor was it Oxford's educational position which gave 
her the impoitance which she retained through the 
first half of this century. TValpole, who hated books 
and tossed history aside with a contemptuous 
4i That I know mud be fake," was not likely to care 
much for schoolmaster-functions which the university 
so imperfectly discharged. jSTor did the country 
squire, whose library consisted of the tattered 
Bolter's Chronicles and a few books on simples 
and farriery, in the hall-window, care one straw for 
the learning of Dr. Hyde, or the resources of the 
Bodleian, Yet Oxford was the one point of interest 
for both squire and minister. It was the Jacobite 
capital of England. The traders of London might 
think of Addison's "sponge" and shout themselves 
hoarse for Public Credit and the Protestant Succes- 
sion; Oxford brooded over memories of parliament- 
ary visitors and " purified " colleges, and toasted the 
"King over the water." It was the place of all 
others where tradition exercised most influence, and 
the traditions of 1640 hung round Oxford like a 
baneful spell. Christ Church still boasted of her 
loyally-defiant Dr. Fell; even Jesus could lay her 
poverty at the door of the fraudulent Principal whom 
the Visitors had set over her. The ring of arms had 
hardly yet died out of the memories of men. There, 
in Bodle} T 's Library, the curious visitor was shown 
the map in which " H. Shirburne, Esq., a native of 


Oxon, and Comptroller of the Ordnance,' 1 had 
graven Oxford " whilst it was a garrison, with all its 
fortifications, bastions, trenches," and on which 
Charles himself, " much approving, wrote the names 
of the bastions with his own hand." 1 Very old men 
could remember the scenes which A. Wood's rough 
memoranda have handed down to us; the students 
but too willingly drawn from their books to the 
muster; the troop of university horse which has 
bequeathed its name to the "Oxford blues"; the 
city girded by floods on every side save the north, 
and the Abingdon road, cleaving the inundations, 
covered with long trains of provisions, or echoing the 
tramp of Eupert and his straggling troopers, fagged 
and weary from skirmishes as successful and as 
fatal to the noble and good as that of Chalgrove. 
Such a one was the " old "Will Bremicham," with whom 
Hearne often, as he tells us, conversed, who used to 
supply his father's place, as a sentinel on the ramparts, 
" where Buddard's garden, as they call it, by Wadham 
is now." The old man could remember Charles, "a 
thin man, of a little picked beard and little whiskers," 
and the hanging of the notable traitor on the oak 
towards Abingdon, to which the execution gave the 
name of "Blake's Oak." 2 The Eestoration of the 
Royal Family was no mere matter of political feeling 
in Oxford ; it meant there the restoration of hundreds 
of fellows and scholars who had been ejected for 
their cause. Men so expelled, so restored, were not 
likely easily to forget to whom they owed the one 


benefit or the other. And so it was that when the 
fever-fit of loyalty, which had succeeded the Restora- 
tion, had abated elsewhere, it was still maintained 
at its height in Oxford. Thither Charles II. pro- 
rogued his Parliament when London and Shaftesbury 
seemed likely to foil the projects of the "merry 
monarch"; and its streets had been filled with the 
armed retinues of the great opposition lords, who 
distrusted the pledges of a Stuart. It rewarded 
Charles's confidence with the most abject devotion. 
No job was too dirty, no humiliation too base, for its 
loyalty. Again and again Whigs smiled and the 
printers rejoiced to see its Heads looking on while 
beadles stirred the fire that consumed some anathe- 
matized volume or pamphlet, A word from Court, 
and Locke was expelled from Christ Church; and 
foreign men of learning smiled when the exiled 
philosopher told them his great work was contraband 
in the university on account of its " Whig principles." 
But Oxford was ready to stoop to compliances baser 
even than this. When Charles was baulked in his 
desire to sacrifice Cofledge, "the Protestant Joiner," 
by the " Ignoramus " of a London grand jury, the 
victim was despatched to Oxford, and the judicial 
murder was easily consummated. 1 

With facts like these staring us in the face, we 
may perchance have little sympathy to spare for 
the university when the characteristic ingratitude of 
the Stuarts turned upon itself the tyranny it had so 
warmly applauded when exercised on others. For 


the moment "non-resistance" was forgotten. The 
King was defied, and the Prince of Orange welcomed. 
But the welcome of the Prince augured no welcome 
for King William. The oath of allegiance forced the 
waverers to a quick decision. Some, the worthiest, 
resigned all rather than take it ; the majority swore, 
and counted the imposition of the oath a new griev- 
ance against "the intruder." As day by day the 
memory of the wrong James had done them grew 
weaker, the memory of the wrong they had done James 
waxed the stronger and stronger. Oxford began to 
reassume its position during the Great Rebellion. 
Then, as now, the Stuarts had been driven from the 
throne then, as now, a " test " had emptied fellow- 
ships and preferments and the acutest politicians 
of the time could not predict but that a restoration 
now, as then, was an event within the bounds of 
probability. Communications were soon opened with 
the Pretender. Non-jurors retired to Oxford to 
find cognate sympathies and society, and formed a 
little junto for the reception and discussion of 
despatches from St. Germain's. Mr. Giffard, the 
ejected rector of Eussell in "Wilts, was there for the 
sake of " honest company," 1 and by this time " honest " 
was the cant term for " Jacobite." Holdsworth, an 
ejected fellow of Magdalen, and well known for his 
amusing "Muscipula," had brought thither from 
Borne the pictures of the Pretender and his consort ; 2 
Leak brings news to be told when none but honest 
folk are present of the birth of that son of the 


Chevalier de St. George who, under the name of 
Prince Charles Edward, was to culminate at Derby 
and set at Culloden. 1 In St. Giles's lived Dr. Wynne, 
a man learned and benevolent, who had put a stop 
to the profligate sale of fellowships at All Souls only 
to be deprived of his own "about midnight" by the 
Whig head, Dr. Gardiner. 2 This junto it was that 
leavened the whole mass, but the mass needed little 
leavening. Freshmen were drawn from the very 
quarters where Jacobitism still reigned triumphant, 
from the country nooks where the squire caught up 
the Scotch songs that were creeping about, and 
trolled out "Here's a health to him that's far 
awa ? "; or the vicar weekly thundered against "the 
pretended right to resistance/' "I am a Tory," says 
one of them, "and all my family have been Tories ; 
my grandfather lost his estate against Oliver Crom- 
well ; my father was a great sufferer for King James 
IL ; and I myself had my head broke in defence of 
Dr. Sacheverell before I was eight years old.' ; 3 One 
so trained was ready to sit down at his first introduc- 
tion to his tutor, and toast Ormond and Mar six 
bumpers deep. 

Besides the historical causes if we may so term 
them there were other circumstances peculiar to 
the time which aided Oxford in becoming the great 
capital of Jacobite England. London indeed was 
then, even in a greater degree than now, not only 
the emporium of commerce, but of learning, of 
manners, one may almost say, of civilisation. It 


was to England what Paris is now to France. Other 
cities Lore no comparison with the capital; manu- 
factures had not begotten Manchester, nor had 
commerce reared Liverpool. London was the great 
magnet to which whatever genius cropped up was 
irresistibly attracted, that drew Chatterton from 
Bristol, Goldsmith from Dublin, Johnson and Gar- 
rick from Lichfield. But there were material obstacles 
which circumscribed the range of the influence which 
it radiated back in return. Prominent among these 
were the badness and insecurity of the roads. And 
every mile from London the roads grew less travers- 
able and less secure. We have already dwelt enough 
on the highwaymen and their exploits, but we can 
hardly now realise the dread and terror of travel 
which those exploits created. Still less can we 
realise the condition of the roads, the long lanes of 
mud and ruts through which the lumbering "dili- 
gence" ploughed its way to London. Here is a 
Prince on his travels, no further back than 1734. 
" As the Prince of Orange was going from Newbury 
to Abingdon in order to see Oxford, and the road 
lying through a lane almost impassable for a coach 
and very dangerous, a wealthy farmer, whose estate 
lay contiguous, threw down the hedges and opened 
a way for his highness to pass through his 
grounds." 1 

One consequence was that the provincial dis- 
tricts fell far behind in the progress of intelligence. 
Addison has humorously sketched a Templar riding 


forth on a briefless circuit and busy in marking 
how, by imperceptible degrees, costume grew more 
antiquated every stage of his journey, till on his 
arrival in Cornwall he found the high sheriff priding 
himself on the fashion of a coat which had been fifty 
years out of date in town. And it was with manners 
as with costume. The farther from the metropolis, 
the farther one went from refinement or education. 
Wales was for all practical purposes at a greater 
distance from London than it is now from Vienna. 
Without adopting Squire Western as the common 
type of the country gentleman of the day, one can 
understand the contempt which the novelist's portrait 
undoubtedly displays. The riches of the country 
aristocracy might indeed find their way to the 
amusement, the society, the dissipation of town, but 
the bulk of the country squires vegetated on their 
estates, cut off from communication with the world 
without (save by the monthly "Dyer's Letter," 
humble precursor of our newspapers and reviews) an 
occupation but that of hunting, or an ambition but 
that of being the deepest sot among the topers of the 
quorum. The squire's dame (as Humphrey Clinker 
reveals her to us), spite of " her rose-coloured negligee, 
her yellow damask, and blue quilted petticoat," 
which, with French commode and Mechlin headdress, 
were disentombed from the walnut-press at the 
advent of a new visitor, was but a farmer's wife. 
She had to care for her cheese, her savings of butter- 
milk, her turkeys, chickens, and goslings ; it was her 


business to see when old Moll had another litter of 
pigs, what the Alderney calf might fetch, or -whether 
the goose was sitting ; it was her eye that kept the 
maids busy at their spinning-wheels, and watched 
over ungrateful " Mary Jones that loved to be romping 
with the men." 

The chief result of all this was the greater com- 
parative importance of the provincial towns. The 
one great centre being practically beyond access, 
each started into the little centres of its own district. 
We pass through these country towns, and wonder 
at the great brick houses, the haunt now of a score 
of lodgers, but whence of old the county magnates 
sallied forth to hunt, ball, or assembly. Macadam 
and Stephenson have been the vandals of these little 
rural capitals. But at this time they were in the 
heyday of prosperity, and this prosperity was shared 
by Oxford ; itself a provincial centre, with which no 
rival could compete. Here the youth, just fresh 
from the dulness and ignorance of the country, 
could find all the excess, the life, the refinement of 
town. It was a sudden plunge at an age when the 
mind is most susceptible of impressions that plunge 
into the Tory atmosphere of Oxford. And the 
prejudices which the neophyte encountered were 
but the counterparts of his own. All that chivalry 
and noble feeling had suggested in favour of the 
exiled race was now confirmed by the sanction of 
those whom, at first, he must have looked up to as 
men of learning and religion. He could give the lie 



to the Whig attorney of his native town, who con- 
trasted the ignorance of the Jacobites with the men 
of letters who rallied round the constitution. The 
men of letters, whom he met in the High, or the 
Broad, were Jacobites to a man. It was no wonder 
that Oxford, thus reinforced, became the focus of 
disloyalty to the House of Hanover; that after 
abdicating her functions of the guardian of religion, 
as the nurse of learning, she came forward as the 
defiant champion of a retrograde and senseless 
Toryism. But when the patient firmness of the 
national will had foiled again and again her efforts at 
what would have been self-destruction; when the 
Jacobite blindness had passed from her eyes, and 
she saw herself landed in safety on the securer 
ground of <k Church and King" it may be that a 
few humorists, such as Dr. King, smiled at the 
story of the poor Irish bricklayer, who had betted 
against the possibility of his comrades carrying him 
up a ladder in his hod, and when safely disembarked 
on the roof could find no better reflection on his 
foolhardiness than "Faix, but I had hopes at the 
third story," 


IN our last Paper we attempted to sketch, in detail, 
the causes which led to the political position which 
the university assumed in the beginning of the 
eighteenth century, a position so opposite to her own 
Interests and to the sentiments of the wiser and 
more statesmanlike among the nation at large the 
greater importance of provincial towns, the metro- 
politan position which Oxford occupied towards the 
young students who flocked to her, the character of 
those classes from whom she drew her chief rein- 
forcements, the country squires and the country 
parsons. But, above all, we directed attention to 
the traditions in which Oxford was bound and en- 
tangled, the noble memories of sufferings, manfully 
borne, for the cause of the Stuarts, the bitter remem- 
brance of injuries, never to be forgotten, inflicted by 
the usurpers. A mere glance round the landscape 
would, in Tory hearts, revive the bitterest reminis- 
cences. The great forest of Bagley, that stretched 
to the very skirts of Oxford, and enveloped Abingdon 


in old time, bad, indeed, long been curtailed. But, 
up to the Great Rebellion, the neighbourhood of 
Oxford was well-brooded; spite of Fuller's com- 
plaints : " Indeed, the woods therein are put to too 
hard a task in then: daily duty, viz. to find fuel 
and timber for all the houses in, and many out of, the 
shire, and they cannot possibly hold out, if not season- 
ably relieved by pit- coal, found here, or sea- coal 
brought hither." The forests had been dear to the 
city. " When Shotover woods," we quote the same 
amusing author, " being bestowed by King Charles the 
First on a person of honour, were likely to be cut down, 
the university, by letters, laboured their preserva- 
tion, wherein this, among many other pathetical 
expressions, 'that Oxford was one of the eyes of the 
land, and Shotover woods the hair of the eyelids, the 
loss whereof must needs prejudice the sight with too 
much moisture flowing therein. 7 This retrenched that 
design for the present, but in what case the woods 
stand at this day is to me unknown." I Dr. Plot, 
however, can. tell " The hills, 'tis true, before the late 
unhappy wars, were well enough as Camden says 
beset with woods, where now 'tis so scarce that 'tis a 
common thing to sell it by weight." 2 The ravages 
during the Great Rebellion had left traces that no 
loyalist heart could well forget. 

Eut to this natural sympathy, and to the pride 
which might arise from a consciousness of the political 
importance which Oxford now assumed, we must 
add that perverseness with which the university has 


so often shown itself the antagonist of national feel- 
ing. " Chronica si penses," says the old proverb, 

Cum pttgnant Oxonienses 
Tune post sex menses volat ira per Angligenses. 

But the wrath of the people was as likely to be in 
opposition as in accordance with the result of the 
university's contests. "\Vhen crown and nation alike 
took alarm at what were then considered the socialist 
doctrines of Wycliffe, the reformer could find his 
stanchest adherents and disciples in the lecture- 
rooms of Oxford. So violent was the tendency that 
Richard Fleming, at first a strong partisan, but after 
his elevation to the see of Lincoln, as strong an 
opponent of the new doctrines, thought it wise to 
establish the college which bears the name of his 
see, for the purpose of perpetually opposing the 
tenets of "that pestiferous sect," as the statutes 
termed the Lollards. But the first dawn of the 
Reformation had been watched by the great prektes 
who founded Corpus Christi and Brasenose, as bul- 
warks against the spread of heresy in the University. 
And so, though literature and scholars such as 
Erasmus and Ludovicus Vives spread "the new 
learning " in Oxford, and the teachers whom Wolsey 
had gathered from Cambridge and elsewhere secretly 
countenanced the rising heresy, the university, as a 
body, stood aloof from the movement; it required 
menaces to gain her assent to that divorce which was 
the turning-point in the contest, and Oxford is only 


associated with the Reformation by that burning 
of tlie three bishops that "lighted such a fire in 
England as shall not easily be put out." In the great 
national strife against Charles the First, Maynwaryng 
vent forth from Oxford to preach "No resistance," 
and Laud to counsel " Thorough." 

There were some who believed that by violent 
measures the universities could be brought into 
unison with the national feeling, and amongst the 
earliest of these was Locke. " Sir, you have made a 
most glorious and happy Eevolution, but the good 
effects of it will soon be lost if no care be taken to 
regulate our universities," 1 was the appeal of one who, 
perhaps, still smarted with the disgrace of an exclusion, 
on mere political grounds, from Christ Church. But 
the Government wisely held aloof how wisely the 
result of SacheverelTs " persecution " was destined to 
prove. During William's reign and the first years of 
his successor the university merely talked. Non-jurors 
were content to ignore the "usurpers," and in the 
midst of the rejoicings for Marlborough's -victories, to 
exult over the exploits of the young Pretender, 
though fighting against those whom he claimed as 
his subjects and countrymen. " Amongst others that 
signalized themselves" in the battle near Mons, 
says Hearne, "must not be forgotten the young King 
of England, who fought under the character of the 
Chevalier St. George, and 'tis by that title he passes. 
He showed abundance of undaunted courage and re- 
solution, led up his troops with unspeakable bravery, 


appeared in the utmost dangers, and at last was 
wounded," l Jacobites, to whom London was danger- 
ous, sought shelter in Oxford. Leslie, author of the 
seditious pamphlet, "The Memorial of the Church of 
England," in his flight from outlawry, could visit the 
Bodleian under a flimsy incognito, without fear of 
discovery. 2 A visitor of greater interest to us was the 
father of the Wesleys. In a previous Paper we saw 
him starting, without a penny, to Oxford, and eking 
out his subsistence as a servitor, by teaching and 
composing exercises for the idlers of his college. He 
was ordained, became, in turn, a navy chaplain and 
a London curate, and, in his latter capacity, distin- 
guished himself by refusing to read James's obnoxious 
" Declaration," and taking for his text the reply of 
Daniel, "Be it known unto thee, O King, that we 
will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image 
that thou hast set up " The Eevolution came, and 
Wesley was amongst the foremost to write in its de- 
fence ; and the dedication of his work to Queen Mary 
was rewarded with the living of Epworth, in Lincoln- 
shire. 3 Like his sons, he was a poet, and a poem on 
the battle of Blenheim procured him a chaplain's 
place in one of the new regiments, and a promise 
of greater favour. But Wesley was among those 
whose conscience or obstinacy are for ever marring 
their fortune. He had engaged in an acrimonious 
controversy with the Dissenters, and the request of 
the " person " on whom all his hopes of preferment 
rested that he would drop the dispute, "had a con- 


trary effect to what was expected. I left my fortunes 
in God's hands, and resolved to act according to my 
conscience," he says in his letter. Accordingly, no 
sooner had he gone down into the country than he 
threw himself into election struggles, wrote letters, 
which his enemies charged with treason, was ousted 
from his chaplaincy, and thrown into prison for debt 
to one of the friends of the candidate he had 
opposed. The same zeal that had involved him in 
these misfortunes had gained him bitter foes among 
his Lincolnshire parishioners ; but we must leave his 
own begging letter to tell the story of a poor parson's 
life and misfortunes in the last century. "I had 
been thrown behind by a series of misfortunes. My 
parsonage barn was blown down ere I had recovered 
the taking my living; my house, great part of it, 
burnt down about two years since; my flax, great 
part of my income, now in my own hands (hemp 
was the principal crop of the neighbourhood), I doubt 
wilfully fired and burnt in the nighty whilst I was last 
in London ; my income sunk about one half by the 
low price of grain; and my credit lost by the 
taking away my regiment. I was brought to Lincoln 
Castle June the 23rd last past. About three weeks 
since, my very unkind people, thinking they had not 
yet done enough, have, in the night, stabbed my three 
cows, which were a great part of my poor numerous 
family's subsistence. For which God forgive them." l 
The letter was responded to by considerable sub- 
scriptions on the part of all the colleges, and a vote 


of 20 from the justices in session ; but the sympathy 
was not so much for his distress as for his opposition 
to the Whigs. " There is a gathering making in the 
University for relief of Mr. Wesley," says Hearne, 
" to the great mortification of the fanatics." l To the 
same charitable end tended the ceaseless calumnies 
which Oxford common-rooms poured forth against 
the character of the Prince whose first arrival they 
had so vehemently welcomed. To us it would seem 
simply ridiculous were a grave Don to assert that 
" King William gave 1000 to those infamous villains 
Blackett and Fuller, that were embarked in a design 
to take away the lives of Archbishop Sancroft and 
Bishop Spratt " ; 2 but the lie thus circulated became a 
source of exultation to the Tories and of indignation 
to the Whigs. On the other hand no eulogy could 
be too great for the sufferers for "loyalty's" 
sake. Lord Griffin dies in the tower, "confined," 
comments Hearne, "for treason, as they now call 
sticking close to the oath of allegiance, and adhering 
firmly to the undoubted Sovereign. 7 ' 3 The most 
odious epithets were lavished on their political foes, 
" Vile, stinking Whig " 4 almost recalls to our memory 
O'ConnelPs " base, bloody, and brutal." A chorus 
of indignant invective saluted any public demonstra- 
tion of Whig piinciples. Long after this several of 
the nobility had to vindicate their characters as 
though the aspersions were a grave one from having 
met together purposely to carouse on the 30th of 
January, the " Martyr's day." And the Tory annalist 


commemorates "an abominable iiot committed in All 
Souls 7 College. Mr, Dalton, A.B., and Mr. Talbot, 
A.M., son to the Bishop of Oxon, both fellows, had a 
dinner drest at 12 Clock, part of which was woodcocks, 
whose heads they cut off in contempt of the memory of 
the blessed martyr. At this dinner were present 
two of the pro-proctors, of Oriel ColL, Mr. Ibbetson 
and Mr. Rogers, to their shame be it spoken, both low 
church men. Tis to be noted that this Dalton, an 
empty fellow, is one of those whom the Archbishop 
of Canterbury, Dr. Tennison, put into the Society 
upon the devolution to him of that power when Dr. 
Finch the late Warden died. He was for having 
calves' heads, but the cook refused to dress them." l 

Greater persons than cooks, however, were now 
coming forward to vindicate the Toryism of the 
University. Sacheverell, like his personal friend but 
political opponent, Addison, was a fellow of Magdalen, 
It is hard to guess the causes of the friendship between 
two so opposed in character as well as opinion, for, 
from the testimony of his very supporters, Sache- 
verell was a man of infinite bluster but of scanty 
parts or knowledge. It fell, however, to his lot to 
preach at St. Paul's before the Lord Mayor and Cor- 
poration, and he selected for the occasion a sermon 
which he had just preached at St. Mary's. But 
language that fell unheeded in Oxford sounded like 
treason at St. Paul's. He upbraided "the fanatics" 
for condemning the king of high treason against "his 
supreme subjects." He taunted the Whig ministers, 


and singled out Godolphin by the nickname of 
Volpone. Then, turning on the Whig London clergy, 
who sat in great numbers in the choir " The "Whigs," 
he thundered out, "are conformists in faction, half 
conformists in practice, and nonconformist in judg- 
ment." The glove thus boldly thrown down "was at 
once taken up by the opposite party. The Govern- 
ment talked of prosecution. The Lord Mayor and 
Corporation refused to order the sermon to be printed. 
But the university was not backward in supporting 
her daring son. Drs. Moss and Smalridge refused 
to preach before the Lord Mayor " on account of the 
ill-treatment Dr. Sacbeverell had received." 1 The 
populace, wearied with the long war whose objects they 
could not understand, and roused by the cry of "the 
church in danger," flocked to hear the preacher at 
Lothbury, and pulled down Meeting-houses to show 
their zeal for the Establishment. Mobs surrounded 
the Queen's coach with shouts of " The Church and 
Dr. Sacheverell." The impeachment went on, and 
Atterbury and the Oxford wits penned an ingenious 
and impressive defence. The return from the trial 
was a triumphal progress. Addresses were presented 
to the doctor; purses were thrown into his coach. 
Everywhere he stopped on his journey to his parson- 
age in Wales mobs turned out to huzzah him, Oxford 
received him in solemn procession, and the bells rang 
as for a victory. 2 

It was indeed a victory for the Tories. The 
Queen was weary of imperious Duchess Sarah of 


Marlborough, and the nation was weary of the war. 
The Saeheverell mania gave a last blow to the totter- 
ing ministry, and, aided by Mrs. Masham, Harley and 
Bolingbroke came into power. Peace was made, and 
the people were contented. "Whispers spread abroad 
of ministerial intrigues for the restoration of the 
Pretender on the Queen's death, and the Jacobites 
waited in silence. " Mr. Giffard told us last night," 
says Hearne, " when several of us were in company, all 
honest men, that the young king was in England 
when the present Queen, as she is styled, his sister, was 
crowned, and he further says that the Queen kissed 
him at that time, he being present at the coronation. 
This is a great secret/ 7 1 It was on " secrets " like these 
that the Tories relied, as they saw the Queen's health 
gradually declining. Smalridge and Atterbury were 
rapidly promoted; Oxford again basked in court 
favour, and its tranquillity gave no sign of the stormy 
outbreak which was so soon to follow the downfall 
of its hopes. This, however, we reserve for our 
next Paper. 


THE accession of Harley to power, the Jacobite sym- 
pathies of the Queen, the hopes that rested on her 
failing health and on the success of the intrigues of 
Bolingbroke and Ormond, had given a seeming peace 
to the university. Both parties shook hands on the 
brink of a deadly struggle. They accosted each 
other in the streets ; politics "were carefully excluded 
from conversation ; party words those badges of 
faction laid for a while aside. The "Whig was 
silent about the " Pretender " ; the Tory, in return, 
said little about the "Elector of Brunswick" The 
one party looked hopefully to Hanover its rival, to 
the Ministry and St. Germains. 

At length the crisis came. The Ministry, dis- 
united and shaken by Bolingbroke's manoeuvres, 
hung back irresolutely. The Jacobite members of 
the Cabinet exhorted them in vain to a bolder course 
of action. Atterbury, bishop though he was, swore 
with an oath that, give him but a regiment of the 
Guards, and he would proclaim the Pretender in the 
heart of the city. But, while their enemies were 


discussing, the great Whig lords had forced their way 
into the Council Chamber. The Queen died, and 
Bolingbroke was flying for his life across the Channel, 
Harley waiting for impeachment at home. The 
Elector was on the throne, and the Whigs sang a 
triumphant welcome to the first of the Georges. 

Bitter as the disappointment must have been, the 
new king was at all events received without open 
opposition in the greater part of his dominions. In 
Scotland, indeed, there were signs of the rebellion 
which Mar was so soon to put himself at the head 
of, but in England the discontent only expressed 
itself in that "grumbling" which an Englishman 
reckons among his constitutional privileges. Here 
and there one might find a parish clerk that had 
"ransacked Hopkins and Sternhold for staves in 
favour of the race of Jacob; after the example of 
their politic predecessors in Oliver's days, who on 
every Sabbath were for binding kings in chains and 
nobles with links of iron." The Jacobite beauty 
might parade her white rose, to spite the rival fair 
one, who, "to show her zeal for revolution principles, 
had adorned her bosom with a Sweet William." Elec- 
tions for " Toasts " might be decided in clubs rather 
on political than on personal grounds, and a trifling 
deformity be pardoned on account of "honest prin- 
ciples." In the theatres the ladies patched on 
different sides as they differed in opinion ; and the 
audience ranged into parties, selected their respective 
favourites, and hooted , or applauded every chance 


phrase that they could wrest to the contests of the 
day. In the country the strife took other, but not 
more demonstrative forms. The elder Wesley's house 
according to his own account was haunted by a 
goblin that proved its Jacobitism by rarely suffering 
him to pray for the King or the Prince of Wales 
without disturbing the family devotions. " As to the 
devil's being an enemy to King George," replied his 
son Samuel, to whom he communicated his troubles, 
"were I the King myself, I should rather old Nick 
should be my enemy than my friend. 3 ' 1 Even up to 
the beginning of George IIL's reign there were 
persons in Bristol whose political principles would 
not allow them to receive King William's halfpence, 
and such was the inconvenience to trade which 
attended their refusal that the interference of the 
magistrates was thought necessary. 

But a more envenomed opposition awaited the 
triumph of the Whig cause at Oxford. There the 
correspondents of Atterbury, the confidants of Dr. 
King, waited, hour by hour, for some interference 
that never came, some rising that never occurred. 
They exulted at the small number of people who 
attended to hear the Hanoverian proclaimed at 
Abingdon. "A person in an open-sleeved gown, and 
in a cinnamon- coloured coat," left at the Mayor's 
house a letter, which, in its medley of cowardly 
threats, craven petitions, and vague intimations, 
gives us a very lively picture of the state of the 
Jacobite minds of the time. 


"Mr. Mayor, If you are so honest a man as to 
prefer your duty and allegiance to your lawful 
sovereign before the fear of danger, you -will not 
need this caution, which comes from your friends to 
warn you if you should receive an order to proclaim 
Hanover not to comply with it. For the hand of 
God is now at work to set things upon a right foot, 
and in a few days you will find wonderful changes, 
which if you are wise enough to foresee you will 
obtain grace and favour from the hands of his sacred 
Majesty King James by proclaiming him voluntarily, 
which otherwise you will be forced to do with dis- 
grace. If you have not the courage to do this, at 
least for your own safety delay proclaiming Hanover 
as long as you can under pretence of sickness or 
some other reason. For you cannot do it without 
certain hazard of your life, be you ever so well 
guarded. I, who am but secretary to the rest, 
having a particular friendship for you and an 
opinion of your honesty and good inclinations to his 
Majesty's service, have prevailed with them to let me 
give you this warning. If you would know who 
the rest are, our name is Legion and we are many." 

The only notice taken of this ludicrous epistle was 
a proclamation by the Heads of Houses, and an offer 
of 100 for the discovery of the deliverer in the 
cinnamon -coloured coat. 1 Broad water, the Mayor, 
"honest" though his subsequent conduct shews him 
to have been, was prudent enough to proclaim the 
accession on Carfax with all the usual ceremonies, 


while the Heads met at the Convocation House and 
proceeded to St. Mary's for the same purpose. The 
Tories, however, exulted with Hearne " on the small 
appearance of Doctors and Masters " in the procession, 
and in the feeble rejoicings and scanty illuminations 
with which Oxford celebrated the occasion. 1 But 
day after day passed without notes of disturbance, 
the country was quiet, and men began to hope that 
the same peaceful sentiments would prevail at the 
university. There, however, the waiting against hope 
begat a bitterness which could not long contain itself 
in even an appearance of content. The rage of the 
vanquished broke out in all the malice of a baffled 
and disappointed faction. Libels covered the tables 
of the coffee-houses ; grave dons toasted " The King 
over the water " ; rioters sang treasonable lampoons 
beneath the windows of the hated Hanoverians. 
They were marked out for persecution and scorn. 
Common-rooms had no mercy on them ; Golgotha 
the place of skulls, as the Hebdomadal room 2 was 
then called denied them justice or redress. Nor 
was it better without college than within. If they 
ventured forth they were sure of insult from the 
crowd ; gownsmen shouted at them as they passed, 
and the rabble at their bidding hustled and mobbed 
them. 3 

But the Whigs, few as they were in Oxford, were 
too fresh from the triumph of their cause to yield 
without a struggle. Their lack of numbers called for 
union, and it is characteristic of their age that they 



found this union in a club. To this the Constitu- 
tion Club all were to be admitted who were well- 
affected to the Government, and (as we presume few 
Whigs could be found among undergraduates) not 
below the Bachelor's degree. Originated by some 
members of New College, and patronised by Dr. 
Gardiner, the Head of All Souls, it soon became the 
centre round which the poor persecuted Whigs 
grouped. The Tories fumed at "the insolent 
loyalty" of the united Hanoverians. 1 But, as yet, 
though individual members might be persecuted, no 
opportunity could be found for attack on the club. 
On the 28th of May 1715, however, came the first 
anniversary of the birthday of the new Sovereign. 
The bells "were jambled by the "Whiggish fanatical 
crew," as Hearne growls, but " honest folk " mocked, 
and drank deep for King James. 2 Mobs paraded the 
streets, shouting for the Pretender, and putting a 
stop to every kind of rejoicing. The Constitution 
Club had gathered to commemorate the day at the 
King's Head. The windows were illuminated, and 
preparations made for a bonfire. Tossing up their 
caps, and scattering money among the rabble that 
flocked to the front of the hotel, the Jacobite gowns- 
men egged them on with shouts of " No George " ; 
"James for ever"; "Ormond"; or " Bolingbroke." 
The fagots were torn to pieces, showers of brickbats 
were thrown into the clubroom. It was feared lives 
would have been lost had not the Constitutioners 
escaped by the back door, and slunk away to their 


colleges. Thus baffled, the mob rolled on to attack 
all illuminated houses. Every Whig window was 
smashed. The meeting-house was entered and 
gutted. 1 This was the usual mode of showing con- 
cern for the Church by men who, like Addison's Tory 
landlord, "had not time to go to church himself, but 
as my friend told me in my ear had headed the 
mob at the pulling down of two or three meeting- 
houses." There was some reason for the essayist's 
caustic comment "Their concern for the Church 
always rises highest when they arc acting in direct 
opposition to its doctrines. Our streets are filled 
at the same time with zeal and drunkenness, riots 
and religion. We must confess that if noise and 
clamour, slander and calumny, treason and perjury, 
were articles of their communion there would be 
none living more punctual in the performance of 
their duties." 

At last the mob dispersed for the night, publicly 
giving out that "the glorious work" was left un- 
finished till the morrow. The Twenty-ninth of May 
was associated with too significant reminiscences to 
be allowed to pass in quiet. Sunday though it was, 
the streets were filled with people running up and 
down with oak boughs in their hats, and shouts of 
" King James, the true king "No Usurper. The Grood 
Duke of Ormond!" The streets were brilliantly 
illuminated ; indeed, wherever disregard was shown 
to the mob's fiat, the windows were broken. 2 It is a 
sign of the deep disloyalty of the place that even 


those who had not shared in the riot of the past 
night, boasted of their part in it. The real rioters 
displayed their hoarseness in proof of the vigour of 
their uproar, and recruited their voices with treason- 
able healths in every tavern. Oxford had seen no 
such public rejoicing since the Restoration. The 
crowds grew thicker and noisier towards even. A 
rumour had gone abroad that Oriel had given shelter 
to some of the Constitutionalists. The mob rushed 
to the attack, and threatened to break open the 
closely-barred gates. At this moment a shot from a 
window wounded one of the ringleaders, a gownsman 
of Brasenose, and the crowd fled in confusion to break 
fresh windows, gut the houses of dissenters, and pull 
down the chapels of the Anabaptists and Quakers. 1 

Such is the Whig account of the great Jacobite 
riots in Oxford in the year of the accession of King 
George. The account of the Tories was very different. 
" Golgotha " met to deliberate on the causes of the 
riot. It was at once laid at the door of the 
club. They had met there, it was urged, to carry 
out "extravagant designs," been prevented by an 
"honest party" in an adjoining room, and forced to 
steal away. 2 The guilt, too, of the bloodshed was 
laid at their door. 7 Twas in vain that others, not 
belonging to the club, who had been in the street at 
the time of the attack, alleged that its members had 
given no provocation, had left the tavern before 
nine, and had been forced to use weapons in self- 
defence. It was replied by the Heads of Houses, 


and to such a reply It is difficult to see what answer 
could be made, that had the Constitutional Club not 
been assembled in the tavern on the 28th, the riot 
could not have occurred, and that on this ground 
the club must be adjudged the originators of the 
disturbances. Nor were the Heads alone in this 
conclusion. The grand jury of the county made a 
similar presentment at the assizes, branding the 
Constitutionalists as "a set of factious men, who, 
shrouding themselves under the specious name of 
the Constitution Club, were enemies to monarchy 
and all good government, and had been the authors 
of all the tumults and disorders that had happened in 
the city or county of Oxford." 1 The county juries, 
however, had long since earned a reputation for un- 
flinching Jacobitism by the trial of Du Cain, an 
Irish gentleman, who was indicted for declaring his 
belief that the soul of King William was in hell 
The charge could not be denied, but the jury, never- 
theless, returned a verdict of acquittal, stating then- 
belief that by the word which he had used the prisoner 
did not intend to convey the meaning of a place of 
torment, but merely that Intermediate place of rest 
where the dead repose till the last judgment day ! 2 
After sophistry such as this we may, perhaps, attach 
less importance to the logic by which the grand 
jury condemned the members of the Constitutional 


THE Heads seem to have entertained a reasonable 
doubt whether the account of these riots, which 
proved satisfactory to themselves, would prove 
equally satisfactory to the Court. " Battling letters," 
as Hearne phrases it, had come down to the Pro- Vice- 
Chancellor, Dr. Charlett, and to the Mayor. "The 
riots," these missives urged, "had been begun by 
scholars, and scholars promoted them. . . . The Pro- 
Vice-chancellor did not endeavour to suppress them, 
and the other magistrates were no less remiss." Old 
Sherwin, the beadle, was indeed sent up to .London 
to represent what the Tories styled "the truth of 
the matter " ; * but the Heads felt that the patience 
of the Government had reached its utmost limits. 
When June 10th brought the Pretender's birthday, 
the zeal of his supporters was rudely suppressed. 
Charlett and the Proctors were industrious in hinder- 
ing any sign of rejoicing. Illuminations indeed were 
commenced at Wadham, but they were promptly 
extinguished by the Pro-Vice-Chancellor. Atterbury's 
friend, Smalridge, now, in addition to his Bishopric 


of Bristol, Dean of Christ Church, invited all the 
noblemen and gentlemen commoners of his house 
to supper, and kept them in his lodgings, and was 
christened "a sneaker "for his pains. "All honest 
men were obliged to drink King James's health 
either privately or out of town." Hearne, with a 
party of Balliol non-jurors, made merry at Foxcombe. 1 
The Jacobites had no reason to reproach Golgotha 
with " sneaking." At their instigation the university, 
on the impeachment and withdrawal of their Chan- 
cellor, Ormond, had unanimously elected as his suc- 
cessor his equally Jacobite brother, the Earl of 
Arran. 2 On the very day of the coronation of 
King George the Convocation met to confer on Sir 
Constantine Phipps, one of the most active of the Tory 
partisans, the honorary degree of D.C.L., with 
particular marks of honour and esteem. 3 Of their 
representatives in Parliament, Bromley disputed the 
Tory leadership with Wyndham, and Whitloek had to 
apologise to the House for the intemperate language 
which, in his opposition to the dissolution, he applied 
to the Throne. 4 On the birthday of the Prince of 
Wales 5 no signs of rejoicing were shown, and the 
bells were silent. A recruiting party 6 was in Oxford 
at the time, and its Major, indignant at the affront 
to the house of Hanover, bustled off to the Mayor. 
The Mayor shuffled ; he did not know, he urged, that 
it was the Prince Begent's birthday. The Major 
swore he would draw out his regiment, and celebrate 
the day with suitable rejoicings. The soldiers were 


from the riot being attributable to the officers, it 
was only by their exertions that a greater disturb- 
ance was prevented. The Earl of Abingdon, finding 
the debate going against him, offered a petition 
from the Mayor and Magistrates, but it was very 
properly rejected, as the House was in committee, 
and the Lords agreed to the following resolutions : 
" That the Heads of Houses and the Mayor of the 
City neglected to make proper rejoicings on the 
Prince's birthday; that the officers having met to 
celebrate the day, the house in which they assembled 
was assaulted and windows broke by the rabble; 
that this assault was the beginning and occasion of 
the riots which ensued; that the conduct of the 
Major was justified by the affidavits ; that the print- 
ing and publishing the depositions while that matter 
was under the examination of the Lords of Council, 
and before any resolution was come to, was irregular, 
disrespectful to the Prince, and tending to sedition/' 1 
In the interval, however, between the riots and 
these proceedings, which, for the sake of convenience, 
we have linked together, the Court had taken an 
opportunity of shewing its resentment by a most 
contemptuous reception of the address with which 
the university met the announcement from the 
Throne of the rebellion in Scotland. 2 It is difficult, 
indeed, to imagine how the actors in this farce could 
have kept their countenances. It is probable that 
among the whole deputation there was scarce one 
who did not in his heart wish for Mar's success. 


The Government, well informed of the Jacobite 
plans, of the preparations for insurrection in the 
western counties, of the arms and artillery gathering 
at Bath, of the design to surprise Bristol, could 
hardly place much confidence in the loyal professions 
of a place which they were on the point of coercing 
by military force. Still, so great had been the for- 
bearance of the Administration, that it was with no 
little surprise that Oxford saw Major-General Pepper's 
entrance at daybreak at the head of his dragoons. 1 
Martial law was at once proclaimed, and the General 
declared that any student who presumed to appear 
beyond the limits of their respective colleges should 
be marched off to military execution. After the 
seizure of ten or a dozen persons, "among whom 
was one Lloyd, a coffee-man," 2 and of some horses 
and furniture belonging to the notorious traitor, 
Colonel Owen, and other Jacobites, the soldiers with- 
drew to Abingdon, and Handyside's 3 regiment of foot 
was afterwards 4 quartered in Oxford "to overawe 
the university." 5 The measure, harsh as it was, can 
hardly be considered an unnecessary one. Der- 
wentwater's rebellion was on the point of breaking 
out, Oxford men were among his associates, and in 
the number of those who were taken at Preston, we 
find Hearne mourning over one "Lionel Walden, 
a very worthy young gentleman," just fresh from 
Christ Church, who, after a temporary imprisonment, 
seems to have taken refuge on the continent, and 
there to have fallen in a miserable squabble with one 


Forbes, a fellow refugee. 1 To such ends could a 
worthless cause lead the noblest and bravest of the 
youth of England ! 

The wits of Oxford met this affront with an epi- 
gram worthy of a. better origin 

King George, observing with judicious eyes 

The .state of both his universities, 

To Oxford sent a troop of horse ; and why * 

That learned body wanted loyalty. 

To Cambridge books he sent, as well discerning 

How much that loyal body wanted learning. 

The authorship of this is, we believe, unknown. 2 The 
reply which was made with almost equal severity on 
behalf of Cambridge was attributed to Sir William 
Browne, the founder of the prize for odes and epi- 
grams in that university, and himself a wit of no 
mean order 

The King to Oxford sent a troop of hoise, 
For Tories own no argument but force. 
"With equal skill to Cambridge "books lie sent, 
For Whigs admit no force but aigument. 

The books here alluded to were the 30,000 volumes 
of Bishop Moore's magnificent library which the 
Crown had purchased at Lord Townshend's sugges- 
tion. Cambridge, though cool in comparison wfth 
Oxford, was yet Tory in sentiment, and opposed to 
the domination of the Whigs. She returned in the 
election of 1715 representatives as anti-Hanoverian 
as Bromley and Whitlock Eiots took place at 


Cambridge as at Oxford on the birthdays of the King 
and the Pretender, windows were broken, and young 
gownsmen shouted "No Hanover." But Golgotha 
was not so blind as at the sister university. Instead 
of the ingenious logic by which the Oxford Heads 
thrust the blame on to Whig shoulders, the Yice- 
Chancellor treated the conduct of the young men as 
a breach of discipline, and the senate in a formal act 
sanctioned an address to the Throne, acknowledging 
King George for their rightful sovereign, and promis- 
ing so to train up the youth under their charge " that 
they might shew in their conduct an example of those 
principles of loyalty and obedience which this uni- 
versity, pursuing the doctrines of our Church, has ever 
steadily maintained." The doctrine of Non-resistance 
was an odd one to use in addressing a King who owed 
his throne to a revolution, but the testimonial was well 
timed, and the loyalty of Cambridge was rewarded 
with the present of Bishop Moore's Library. 1 

But the insult to Oxford was resented by measures 
more weighty, if less provoking, than epigrams. On 
the suppression of the rebellion, and the conclusion of 
a triple treaty with France and Holland, addresses 
poured in from every quarter of the kingdom. " Ox- 
ford," smiles the Tory Smollett, " was not so lavish 
of her compliments." At a meeting of the Vice- 
Chancellor and Heads of Houses an address was 
moved to the King. Its grounds are curiously 
stated. The suppression of the late rebellion, and 
the King's safe return from his Hanoverian dominions, 


were coupled as a concession to Tory prejudice 
with u the favour lately shown the university in 
omittiiig, at their request, the ceremony of burning 
in efEgy the Devil, the Pope, the Pretender, 
the Duke of Ortnond, and Earl of Mar, on the 
anniversary of Iris Majesty's accession," In spite, 
however, of such a favour as this, the proposal 
met with a vehement opposition. The rebellion, 
Smalridge argued, had been long suppressed; ad- 
dresses would have no end were one presented on 
each return of the King from his German dominions ; 
the favour so much dwelt upon was more than 
counterbalanced by the regiment that was quartered 
on them ; while the remonstrances of the university 
against the riotous conduct of the troops had been 
met with contemptuous disregard. 1 

If we are amused at this childish display of an 
impotent resentment, we cannot, on the other hand, 
fail to be struck with the great forbearance exhibited 
by the Government in their dealings with Oxford. 
Enough has been said of the secret intrigues carried 
on even by Ministers of the Crown with the Court of 
St Germains, but historians have failed to notice 
that the lenity which this conduct forced them to 
exhibit towards those who were more luckless in their 
intrigues, or more open in their dealings with the 
exiles, was one of the main causes of the comparative 
bloodlessncss of the many contests which disturbed 
the throne of the first two Georges. Certain it is, 
that of this lenity Oxford had more than its share. 


So long as sedition only trumpeted from its pulpits ; so 
long as their exertions for the Jacobite cause were 
confined to treasonable toasts and witty epigrams, 
the Government stood by inactive. Bellarmine so 
merciless to heretics "allowed," says Southey, "free 
right of pasture on his corporal domains to fleas. He 
thought they were created to aftbrd exercise for our 
patience, and, moreover, that it was unjust to inter- 
rupt them in their enjoyment here when they have 
no other paradise to expect." Oxford divines had no 
court promotion, no deaneries or sees to look to, and, 
perhaps, Townshend or Sunderland allowed them in 
very pity to have their fling. It may be that, like 
the monks who, every day during the warm season, 
shake the vermin from their habits into a dungeon 
beneath, the Hanoverian statesmen were glad to 
brush off the prejudices and bigotries which, if 
accumulated elsewhere, might have given them so 
much trouble, into this antiquated ' receptacle, and 
to leave it untouched, as the monks left theirs un- 
touched " La Pulciara " the Fleaery of England. 


THOSE who have amused themselves with the riots 
and disturbances of our former Papers must smile 
to think how, proudly as our university looks down 
on its continental rivals, its attitude in the last 
century recalls the Jena and Heidelburg of 1848. 
There are the same boisterous disloyalty the same 
secret clubs the same military coercion. Traitors 
to give them a harsh name they immured in 
their hidden recesses; the beautiful turret, which 
alone remains to us of old Magdalen Hall, served to 
conceal Colonel Owen, the seizure of whose horses 
we have already recorded. The same high and noble 
sympathies were enlisted in the cause of King James 
as in the cause of republican liberty, but it must be 
owned that the German universities whether from 
fear or some higher feeling have shown a disposition 
towards their political opponents very different from 
that which the Oxford Tories displayed towards the 
Oxford Whigs. 

During the reign of the first two Georges, Oxford 
was to a Whig an earthly purgatory. Open resist- 


ance to the new family ceased after the first wild 
outbuist of disappointment; and the baffled dons 
turned with an old-womanish instinct to worry the 
luckless partisans whom fortune had placed in their 
hands. The severer weapons of offence were indeed 
no longer in their power. The days were past when 
A. "Wood could record (Sept. 6, 1683) "Bannimus 
stuck up to expeU Mr. Parkinson from the university 
for Whiggism, formerly expelled from C.C.C.," and 
a late expulsion of one of the fellows by a Cambridge 
college for justifying the execution of King Charles 
had been annulled by the restoration of their victim. 
But means of annoyance still remained, as well for 
the Whig as for the Tory. Degrees were refused to 
even the most senior applicants. Dr. Wills com- 
plained of the strenuous opposition that was offered 
to the conferring of his degree, "which he obtained 
at last with much difficulty by a majority of only 
three or four/' and of the refusal of accumulating, 
which was granted on the same day to an applicant 
of the other party. "What reasons," blustered a 
Tory zealot, 1 "have I against him? Did he not 
decypher the Bishop of Rochester's letters?" The 
bishop was Atterbury, just exiled on a charge of 
treason, and whom his sufferings rendered justly dear 
to his Jacobite friends at the university. The story 
of Amherst to whose sketches we owe so much of 
our knowledge of the time may prove that this 
persecution ranged from doctors down to under- 
graduates. Though there seems little doubt that his 



conduct was by no means so Irreproachable as he 
represents it, and that he suffered as much for his 
own misconduct as for his Whig sympathies, yet the 
side of his Oxford life which he has written ior us is 
too strongly corroborated by every other memorial 
of the time to be dismissed as a fiction. He sketches 
vividly enough t^e hot, ardent boy disputing " with 
his disaffected schoolfellows upon Liberty and Property 
and the Protestant Succession," poring over the 
Flying Pout, and devouring the crowds of controversial 
pamphlets, " by which means I became so consider- 
able a disputant that I thought myself a match for 
any Jacobite in the kingdom," He is elected, in the 
very crisis of Mar's rebellion, to St. John's, "a 
college the most remarkable in Oxford for as violent 
a zeal on the contrary side," * and he had not been 
there an hour before the company were toasting 
"Kiug James, Ormond, and JIar," and "Confusion 
to the Usurper." The young Whig declined drink- 
ing to the Pretender, whom he was on the morrow 
to abjure, and proposed the health of King George. 
He was charged with "an affront to the company," 
and set down in the eyes of all honest men as 
"a turbulent, contumacious, ungovernable wretch, an 
nndutiful son of the university." The young " fresh- 
man" seems to have had an Irishman's love of a 
row; if there was one thing in Oxford worse than 
the being a Whig it was the being a Low Churchman, 
and Amherst took part with Hoadley in the famous 
Bangorian controversy only to add to his other titles 


that of " Arian, infidel, and atheist." It was in vain 
that head and tutors remonstrated ; he enrolled him- 
self in the Constitution Club, and was whispered to 
be the author of the bitterest of the Whig pamphlets 
and epigrams. His probation came at last to a 
close ; ten out of fourteen fellows voted against him 
for his fellowship, and his four supporters in turn 
came in for the penalties of insubordination. One 
lost his living, two were long denied testimonials for 
orders, and it was rumoured that another, before 
he could obtain his degree, had to declare that he 
abhorred Amherst's person and principles. 1 

But the most systematic and persevering instance 
of Tory persecution was directed against the Con- 
stitution Club. We have already described the riots 
of 28-29 May 1715. On the evening of 29 May 1715 
the Club, with several officers of Handyside's regiment, 
were drinking loyal healths at the King's Head, re- 
gardless of the squibs or hooting of the crowd without. 
About eleven the Pro-proctor, Mr. Holt, of Magdalen, 
entered to demand the reason of their presence at a 
tavern at so late an hour. Meadowcourt, 2 of Merton, 
who was in the chair, replied that they were met to 
commemorate the restoration of King Charles and 
the accession of King George, and invited the Proctor 
to join him in drinking the health of the latter. It 
was impossible, with any appearance of loyalty, to 
refuse ; but the jest was an imprudent one. The 
offender was summoned next day to the Proctor. 
He was treated to a tirade against the Constitution 


Club "the most profligate fellows in Oxford, who 
deserved to be expelled for pretending to have more 
loyalty than the rest of the university. Who were 
this handful of men/' thundered the indignant official, 
kt that they should venture to set themselves up in a 
place where there were notoriously ten Tories to one 
Whig?'' Meadowcourt was fined, and his name, 
with that of his companions, 1 put down 2 in the 
Proctorial Black Book, in spite of the intercession of 
influential friends. They were charged in that 
formidable record with "profaning with mad intem- 
perance " the sacred anniversary of the Eestoration ; 
with associating " with those who insolently boast of 
their loyalty to King George "; with abetting "certain 
officers who ran up and down the High Street with 
their swords drawn " ; and " with breaking out to 
that degree of impudence " at the Proctor's admoni- 
tion to withdraw, "as to command all the company 
to drink King George's health." For these and other 
charges they were suspended from their degrees for 
different periods, and at whose expiration an abject 
apology was required. This was refused, and the 
culprits took advantage 3 of the King's Act of Grac*>, 
which wiped off all offences, to stand for their 
degrees. Mr. Meadowcourt was thrice denied his 
M.A.; and on the third trial it was granted only 
because the refuser would then have had to allege 
his reasons for such a proceeding. 4 In spite of these 
penalties the Constitution Club advanced in numbers 
and influence. While the Vice - Chancellors were 


sneering at it iu the Theatre, and a Proctor was 
describing its members to Convocation as "villains 
hateful to heaven and to men," they boasted of the 
presidency of Dr. Gardiner, the head of All Souls, 
and of the adhesion of the more aristocratic members 
of the university. It was impossible to arrest the 
steady growth of more loyal principles, and the 
disgust which was felt at the mad threat of one of 
the Proctors, "that no Constitutioner should take 
his degree " during his year of office, 1 was a sign that 
in this burst of vapouring Toryism open persecution 
had at last reached its close. 

The petty but perhaps more annoying vexations 
which "Whigs were exposed to in their social inter- 
course with their opponents lasted probably much 
longer. Hearne glories in the exclusion of Mr. 
Moseley from the club of "the High Borlace," on 
the mere pretext that he was a Merton man. 2 
"Oxford," exclaimed a Tory professor who had 
wandered to London, "is a learned and blameless 
society.' 7 "What," said a friend, "are there no 
abuses, debauchery, disloyalty, or perjury there?" 
"None at all," replied the doctor. "No !" rejoined 
his questioner, "not in Merton College, sir?" 
"Hum," quoth his professorship, "yes, really, I 
have heard of strange doings there ! " 3 Merton, in 
fact, was regarded by both parties as the centre and 
rallying-point of the Whigs. Three of its fellows 
were among "the associates of the red coats," who, 
with Meadowcourt, experienced the discipline of the 


Black Book. 1 A Merton Proctor, Mr. Streat, who 
with his Pro. was commemorating the coronation 
of the King in a tavern, on the evening of that 
anniversary, which chanced to "be Sunday, was 
pounced upon by the Vice-Chancellor, " who walked 
that evening," and "dismissed forthwith to the 
great reluctance to be sure of Streat and his 
friends," chuckles Hearne. 2 Wadham, Exeter, and 
Christ Church were tainted with the same political 
spirit in a less degree. The Deans who succeeded 
Atterbury and Smalridge were carefully selected by 
the Court from among its staunchest adherents. 
On the King's birthday, in 1727, "Mr. Jonathan 
Colley, being chaunter of Christ Church, set a peni- 
tential anthem, which enraged the Dean, Dr. Brad- 
shaw, to that degree that after service he sent for and 
reprimanded him." 3 Gibson, the head of Queen's, 
was a Whig as well by conviction as by his marriage 
with a grand-daughter of the Protector Cromwell. 4 
There were indeed many exceptions ; Johnson, years 
after, praised Panting, the Master of Pembroke, as 
a " fine Jacobite fellow " ; 5 but the Toryism of the 
Heads was lukewarm when compared with the 
Toryism of the Undergraduates. 

The " Freshman," who arrived at Oxford with a 
head full of loyal traditions, a hatred of Oliver, Jack 
Presbyter, and the Whigs, had little to encourage 
him to a change of sentiments. He saw the few 
Whigs outlawed, discountenanced, and jeered at, 
scouted by the society of their college, disqualified 


for preferment, visited with the utmost severity oa 
the most trifling breach of discipline. He evades 
the oath of allegiance as he thinks by kissing his 
thumb instead of the book, or perhaps, by favour of 
an " honest " beadle, has not the book given him at 
all. 1 He drinks to " Betty of Hearts " with his tutor, 
and passes his wine duly over the water-bottle. He 
has a knack of rhyming, and his satirical verses on 
the Whig head, whose zeal had so carefully erased 
the treasonable initials (as they seemed) "J. K.," 
from the velvet cushion only to discover that he 
had destroyed the initials of the donor (Jemmet 
Eaymond) 2 are laughed at in the coffee-houses, and 
applauded by the wits. Or, perhaps of a rougher 
turn of mind, he sits over a pipe and a bottle with 
some "jovial blades" of All Souls, when, espying 
some foreigners in the quad, the company jump out 
of window, pelt them out of college, and stand hoot- 
ing before their lodgings for a couple of hours, 

"d n all strangers, particularly Frenchmen and 

Hanoverians," and swearing " they would have their 
blood before they went away/ 73 

Indeed "a foreigner" was as fearful a bogie to 
these educated gentlemen as to the veriest bumpkin 
in Stubbleshire. If he entered a Oxford coffee-house, 
the doctor whom he accosted had no reply for him 
but a cool "Yes, sir," or "No, sir"; and the company 
round stared at him, and swore that by his assurance 
he must be a Hanoverian. If he walked through 
the streets, rumours instantly flew about, a mob 


gathered at his heels, and lie was fortunate if he 
escaped without a broken head. If he complained 
to the authorities, he was probably told that the 
gentlemen were in liquor, and obliged to content 
himself without even an apology. 1 

In one respect, doubtless, the Tory " freshman " 
was more commendable than his successor of the 
present day. He was regular in his attendance ac 
the university sermons. But the motives which 
drew him to St. Peter's or St. Mary's were not so 
much those of religion as of amusement and fear. 
If he absented himself, he was liable to a lecture 
from his tutor ; and the Proctor, if he caught him 
strolling in the High during sermon time, was prompt 
with an imposition. If he attended, the dry topics 
of theology were sure to be enlivened with a spice 
of treason or a gird at the Whigs, Sometimes an 
entertaining scene would divert the audience. When 
Wyatt, the Principal of St. Mary Hall, thundered 
against the perfidy and Whiggery of the Scots, 
Archibald Campbell, the son of Argyle, who happened 
to be one of the audience, "did accost Mr. Wyatt 
when he came out of the pulpit, and did in a most 
egregious manner abuse him in the face of the people, 
and called him e red -faced sot.'" 2 Among the 
preachers whose sermons "smacked of treason" we 
find no less a name than John Wesley. "My 
brother," says Charles, in 1734, "has been much 
mauled and threatened more for his Jacobite sermon 
on the llth of June* But he was wise enough to 


get the Vice-Chancellor to read and approve it before 
he preached it, and may therefore bid "Wadhani, 
Merton, Exeter, and Christ Church do their worst." l 
Some were not so fortunate. Mr. Coningsby was 
summoned before the Vice-Chancellor for a sermon 
whose sedition seems to have consisted in innuendoes, 
and suspended for two years, but Hearne's comment 
is remarkable "I am told it was a good honest 
discourse, and that all were very attentive, without 
the least smile, as often happens when any stinging 
passage conies from a sermon." 2 


MORE remarkable in its tone, however, than any 
of the sermons which we have noticed, was one 
delivered by the then Professor of Poetry, the elder 
"VYarton, on May 29, 1719. The obvious parallel 
between the First Charles and his deposed son was 
dexterously used to point the covert allusions of the 
preacher, and the fidelity of Oxford dwelt upon as 
an example in times of similar difficulty. " Justice," 
ended the Professor, with a slight perversion of 
the words of St. Paul, " Justice beareth all things, 
hopeth all things, endureth all things, restoreth all 
things," and the emphasis on the word "restoreth" 
left no doubt of the meaning of this clerical pun. 
Men praised it as the boldest, and as the most 
guarded sermon that had ever been heard at Oxford ; 
the Masters waved their caps to the preacher as he 
passed through them out of church, and his health 
was drunk in every common-room. The challenge, 
however, was too bold a one not to be taken up by 
the Whigs. Meadowcourt charged the sermon with 
sedition, and demanded that Warton's notes might 


be examined, but the Vice-Chancellor refused. The 
charge was laid before Craggs, at that time Secretary 
of State, and the Lords Justices, in the King's 
absence, commanded the Vice-Chancellor to proceed 
against the preacher. He was summoned, but as 
notice had been privately given him, the notes were 
prudently lost. The only result of the Government 
interference was that in his Commemoration speech, 
the Vice -Chancellor branded Meadowcourt as a 
"delator turbulentus," " a troublesome informer," 
and alluded to the Council as "a foreign juris- 
diction." 1 

That the Government should interfere, and that 
in a harsher and more summary manner, had been 
akeady suggested by many wise and judicious men. 
We have already noticed the advice which Locke 
gave to King William, and in 1719 Archbishop 
Wake was earnest for the introduction of a bill for 
the assertion of the royal supremacy and the better 
regulation of the clergy of the two Universities, 
Lord Macclesfield went further than a mere sugges- 
tion or desire. In a formal memorial he embodied 
his plan for the reformation of the Universities, and 
it is, in some points, so characteristic of the age, 
that we may be pardoned for entering a little into 
detail. The election of Heads was henceforward to 
be vested in the great Officers of State, with the 
concurrence of the Visitor and the Bishop. The 
Fellowships were to be limited in duration to twenty 
years, to prevent that long continuance in college 


which leads only "to their being overrun with spleen, 
or taking to sottishness." Conciliation was to be 
attempted by the founding of Professorships, and 
the gift of pensions of "20 or 30 per annum," to 
about twenty fellows of colleges "to encourage them 
to serve the government with their pupils and 
others." The system of bribery, which "Walpole 
found so effective in St. Stephen's, was to be tried 
in Oxford. The benefices of the Crown and the 
nobility were to be bestowed only " on well-affected 
persons." The Government was advised to " extend 
its care and kindness in an especial manner to those 
colleges in which honest" ('tis amusing to see this 
last word the shuttlecock of both parties) " in which 
honest and loyal men have any interest," both by 
bestowing livings and the like, and by the removal 
of the discontented "till the true interest in them 
was become superior to all opposition." l 

Wise, however, as some of these suggestions might 
be, the government preferred and wisely preferred 
inaction. It was not till within ten years of the 
accession of George the Third, when the House of 
Brunswick, after the suppression of the " Forty-five," 
felt itself at length secure upon the throne, that 
measures of severity were resorted to. Eut the 
opportunity which was chosen, was by no means a 
happy one. Two or three riotous young students 
dropped some treasonable expressions over their cups, 
and boasted of their attachment to the House of 
Stuart No sooner had the report of this spread 


abroad, than the Tice-Chancellor and Proctors ap- 
prehensive of the result published a declaration of 
their abhorrence of seditious practices, their resolu- 
tion to punish such offences with the utmost rigour, 
and containing peremptory orders for the regulation 
of the university. The Government, however, was 
not to be diverted from its purpose. A messenger 
of state was despatched to arrest "the three boys," 
two of whom were, after trial in tho Court of King's 
Bench, found guilty, and sentenced to walk through 
the Courts of Westminster with an account of their 
crime fixed on their foreheads, to pay a fine of five 
nobles each, be imprisoned for two years, and find 
security for seven years more. This ridiculously 
disproportionate sentence was followed up by other 
acts of rigour. The King's Bench granted an in- 
formation against the Yicc-Chaucellor, Dr. Pornell, 
for his behaviour in the matter 3 but the rule was 
eventually countermanded. 1 It was attempted to 
subject the whole of the statutes to the revision of 
the Privy Council, but, after an argument in the 
Court of King's Bench, this attempt, in deference to 
the judge's opinion, was also countermanded. The 
cry of Jacobitism was, however, still clamoured 
against the university, and its address, on the re- 
establishment of peace, was rejected with disdain. 

Meanwhile Cambridge was displaying a fulsome 
spirit of flattery rather than loyalty. Its Chancellor- 
ship fell vacant, and, though generally expected to 
have been reserved for the Prince of Wales, who 


was then in opposition, was bestowed on that most 
ignorant and ridiculous of mortals, the Premier, the 
Duke of Newcastle. The prosecutions of 1748 
afforded another opportunity of "supporting the 
throne,"' and Mason, then a promising young poet, 
bid high for perferment by the publication of his 
Ids. In an invidious comparison, he contrasted 
the loyalty of Cambridge with the disaffection of its 
sister University. At Oxford he bids us 

See Hydra Faction spread its impious reign, 
Poison each breast and madden every "brain ; 
Hence frontless crowds, that not content to fright 
The blushing Cynthia from her throne of night, 
Blast the fair face of day ; and madly hold 
To freedom's foes infernal orgies hold ; 
To freedom's foes, ah, see the goblet crowned ' 
Hear plausi, c shouts to freedom's foes resound. 

But he does not omit a tribute to the few Whig 
Abdiels, " faithful only found," 

Learning, that once to all diffused her beam, 
Now sheds by stealth a partial private gleam 
In some low cloister's melancholy shade 
Where a firm few support her sickly head, 
Despised, insulted by the barbarous train 
"Who scour like Thracia's moon-struck rout the plain, 
Sworn foes like them to all the muse approves, 
All Phoebus favours, or Minerva loves ! 

To us the satire seems of the dullest and most 
vapid kind, but its author, as we learn from an 
amusing anecdote, thought very differently. Years 
after the elegy had been published, and (we should 


think) forgotten, Mason was entering Oxford on 
horseback, and, as he passed Magdalen-bridge, he 
turned to his companion to express his satisfaction 
that the darkness of the evening would allow them 
to enter the town unnoticed. His friend was puzzled 
to conjecture what the advantage of this could be. 
" What," rejoined the poet, " do you not remember 
my Isis?"* 

Whatever was the extent of Mason's vanity or 
timidity, it is seldom that the victor bears a grudge 
against the vanquished, and victorious Oxford had 
come off on this occasion, thanks to the genius of a 
young scholar of Trinity, the son of that Tom 
Warton whom we mentioned at the commencement 
of this Paper. This younger Tom Warton was 
doubtless then, what he remained to the end of his 
life, a singular combination of the scholar and the 
buffoon, the hard-reader and deep- drinker. He 
lounged and sauntered all day, and spent the early 
hours, when his comrades slept, for classical and 
antiquarian study. He was a poet in the morning, 
strolling, full of fancies, along the Cherwell, or up 
Headington-hill, or standing, lost to all but his 
thoughts, before the ancient gateway of Magdalen 
College. At night he was the first of boon com- 
panions, punning and jesting in common-room, or 
drinking his ale and smoking his pipe in the lowest 
pot-house, " with persons," as his biographer primly 
puts it, " of mean rank and education." 2 There was 
little poetical in the appearance of this " little, thick, 


squat, red-faced man," as a satirist describes him, 
with a stutter that prevented all but his friends 
from understanding him, and "a gobble," as Johnson 
said, " like a turkey cock." l But poet, notwithstand- 
ing, he was, and, in picturesqueness of description, 
inferior to few among his rivals. The lines in which 
he invokes the time-honoured temples and shiines 
of Oxford to inspire their defender against this un- 
provoked assailant have never been excelled by a 
poet of twenty-two, and such was the age of their 
author. Nor was he wanting in a vigorous vein of 

Let Granta boast the patrons of her name 
Each splendid fool of fortune or of fame : 
Still of preferment let her shine the Queen, 
Prolific parent of each bowing Dean ; 
Be hers each prelate of the pampeied cheek, 
Each courtly chaplain, sanctified and sleek, 
Still let the drones of her exhaustless hive 
On rich pluralities supinely thrive. 

There was a ring in lines like these that made his 
poem in very deed " The Triumph of Isis." He was no 
less successful in his compliment to the Jacobite Dr. 
King, whose oration at the opening of the Eadcliffe 
had roused a thousand charges of disloyalty 

See, on yon sage, how all attentive stand, 

To catch his darting eye and waving hand ; 

Hush, he begins with all a Tully's art 

To pour the dictates of a Gate's heart ; 

Skilled to pronounce vhat noblest thoughts inspire. 


He "blends the speakei's Tvitli tlie patuot's fire ; 
Bold to conceive, nor timorous to conceal, 
"What Britons dare to think he dares to tell. 

The sage of these lines was too notable a Jacobite 
fco be passed over in these Papers -without notice. 
^Principal of St. Mary's Hall, and, by turns, secretary 
to Ormond and Arran, a keen satirist and a most 
amusing wit, he contrived to trifle his great gifts 
away (like the predecessor in his name who waged 
war against Bentley, and, though conquered, made 
the world laugh at his conqueror) in the mean con- 
tests of party, or rather of faction. "Imprudens 
et improvidus," it was thus he wrote of himself, 
" comis et benevolus, ssepe sequo iracundior, haud un- 
quam ut essezn implacabilis ipse et cibi abstinentior 
et vini abstinentissimus, cum magnis vixi, cum plebeiis, 
cum omnibus, ut homines noscerem ut meipsum 
imprimis neque eheu novi 1 " l "A pleasant, kind- 
hearted fellow, often angry beyond measure, but 
never too stubborn to be appeased, a temperate diner, 
still more temperate in his cups I have lived with 
the lofty, with the lowly, with every one in short, 
that I might gain a knowledge of men and of myself, 
and yet this last knowledge I have never gained." 
Contented with the laugh with which men welcomed 
every scrap from his humorous pen, he gave up 
literature for politics, but he retained a kindly feel- 
ing towards the young aspirants who enlisted under 
the standard he had deserted. We can yet see the 
" tall, lean, well-looking man " reading, in the shop 


of Prince, the bookseller, with a smile of pleasure 
this eulogium from an unknown hand, and then no 
idle thought in an age of Johnsons and Savages 
inquiring whether five guineas would be of any 
service to the author, and leaving the donation with 
the publisher. 1 He was at this time in communi- 
cation with the Pretender, the head, it might almost 
be said, of the English Jacobites, yet truer than 
ever were his words he knew not himself. When 
the third of the Georges mounted the throne, and 
Dr. King accompanied the address, the party he had 
led turned upon him as the Protectionists turned 
upon Sir Robert Peel. The end of his life was 
embittered with charges of " apostacy " from his old 
supporters. " He knew not himself," but he might 
have urged with equal truth that the University to 
which he belonged was just as ignorant. Its eyes 
were soon to open. Tory principles mounted the 
throne with George the Third, and the current of 
royal favour was at once diverted to the Tory 
University; Jacobitism disappeared like a dream. 
The Cardinal of York was sneered at as a pretender. 
The zeal that had backed the most odious of causes 
was needed now to back the new king in the most 
odious of wars the war with America. Deaneries 
and Bishoprics fell in a shower among the Heads, 
and a stream of addresses against Wilkes, against 
Catholic Emancipation, against anything in short 
that the King hated, evinced the gratitude of the 
University. As Dryden sang years before 


The court of Constantine was full of glory, 
And every trimmer turned addressing Tory. 

We pause, however, at this beginning of a new reign, 
this striking revolution in the position of Oxford 
towards the Crown, because the chain of events 
which we have been tracking ends abruptly here. 
In future Papers we may perhaps resume the tale 
of Tory Oxford under the two last of the Georges, 
but of Jacobite Oxford under the two first the tale 
is ended. If the story has nothing but what is 
mean, and petty, and trivial, if Jacobitism in Oxford 
had no Prestons or Cullodens to prove the sincerity 
of its loyalty ; if its " honesty " began and ended in 
grumbling, while the heads of braver and truer men 
were mouldering on Temple Bar, there is something 
even in this childish obstinacy, this ineffective re- 
sentment, above the level, uninterrupted sycophancy 
which was to follow it. The tale, at any rate, is 
new and curious (it has never, so far as we know, 
been attempted before) ; and if this brief sketch has 
served in any way to illustrate it, we shall have 
gained some fresh knowledge of an hitherto untold 
side of the History of Oxford during the Last 


THOSE who are at all conversant with authorship 
know that sketches of a period, such as those which 
we have endeavoured to produce, must often be 
constructed from the most heterogeneous materials. 
The pamphlet, the libel, the broadsheet, must in 
turn be ransacked by one who would picture the 
social life of the time. The writer must resemble 
the alchemist, and extract gold from the very vilest 
materials. And this for the very obvious reason 
that his search is for those very details which such 
chance productions alone preserve to us. That 
common, daily life, which he is endeavouring to 
disentomb, seems to those who partake of it so 
mean and worthless in its lesser circumstances that 
they would think it ridiculous to chronicle it in 
their graver and more serious histories. And so 
the generations who succeed, if they would learn not 
merely how their forefathers fought and died, but 
how they walked, were dressed, eat, drank, spoke, 
laughed, or swore, must turn into the "bye- ways r 


of literature, and melt down in their crucible the 
libels of the wit, or the play-book of the child. 

The little volume which we intend to submit to 
this process for the edification of our readers in the 
present paper is of the latter character. Tlie 
Young Travellers, or a Visit to Oxford, by a Lady, 1 
is just the sort of book which sage parents put into 
the hands of those who have attained the enviable 
title of "good boys." The parents are all bene- 
volent, affable, and prosy: the children what 
children never were or will be. They listen with 
the utmost interest to the dullest lectures on moral 
questions, and, full of their own unquestioning obedi- 
ence, doubt not that every little boy who utters 
those tabooed syllables, "I won't," is destined to be 
drowned, buried alive, or devoured by tigers. They 
have a horror of marbles and mud-pies, and a great 
love for the society of sententious old gentlemen, 
who might be their grandfathers. In short, the book 
is of the usual stamp of the child-books of our own 
youth, and is inspired with just that amount of 
untrue as well as ridiculous morality which is usually 
thought wholesome for developing philosophers, 
still unbreeched. It is full, however, of interesting 
details of a time which we may call the borderland, 
between this century and the last, and its notices, 
combined with the information we have been enabled 
to draw from other quarters, may enable us to realize 
in some measure that phase of Oxford life, on which, 
as yet, we have not ventured, the Life of the Streets. 


We pass into Oxford by the great London road, 
with a glance at the row of old tumble-down houses, 
a disgrace to the cit} T , which ran along from the 
gate of the Botanic Gardens, and turned down what 
is now the open side of Rose Lane. Before one of 
these, on its high pole, hangs out the sign of the 
Xoah's Ark, and the host (one Hodges) is busy 
clearing his doorway of one of the noisiest scamps in 
the town, that prince among poachers, Dan Stewart. 
Fish and game were Dan's legitimate property; 
there was not a cover or a preserve in the county 
whose merits he was not well acquainted with j and 
so high was his reputation for a knowledge of 
"sport," that he was generally selected by freshmen 
as their guide on piscatory excursions. The joke 
ran that he was as invariably successful in directing 
them to spots perfectly free from fish of any size, 
as he was in securing a bagful when he sallied out 
alone. Dan, however, is at present haranguing, as 
is his wont, blind-drunk in the street, and a crowd 
gathers round to laugh at the blasphemies which 
proceed so fluently from his lips. Dan is but one 
amid a host of ruffians who infested the streets 
ruffians, such as the blustering drunkard whom the 
children call "Captain Ward," who comes raving 
up street at the moment, with eyes bearing traces 
of many encounters, abusing every one he meets, 
and offering them satisfaction in a fight for a pot of 

The children, however, leave these two worthies 


to run over to the old cakeman beneath the elms 
of Magdalen Horse-walk, where two or three Mag- 
dalen schoolboys are already lounging, hesitating 
between his "rosy apples and sugared cakes." Dicky 
Dunker, however, finds a formidable rival in old 
Mother Smith, who passes by with her basket full 
of buns, and her shrill cry of "any cakes and rolls, 
muffins and crumpets"; and in Tippety Ward's 
cakes, "all sugar and brandy," as the vendor de- 
scribes them. Tippety, we may remark in passing, 
was a very notable Oxford character, whose father 
had lived in the great farmhouse with the trees in 
its front below the Infirmary, which was subse- 
quently burnt down, and whose site is now occupied 
by Pearse's-row. Street-cries, which we so seldom 
hear now, were in these days no insignificant fea- 
ture of Oxford streets, and Monday morning in par- 
ticular seldom failed to bring round the old woman 
with her bag across her shoulder, and her cry of 
"old boots and old shoes," with whom extravagant 
servant-galism (so said the mistresses) was glad to 
effect exchange of less useful finery. Another 
member of the mercantile fraternity of the streets 
was "poor Jack the matchman," in his long coat 
and slouched hat, who still figures in "West's picture 
of "The Death of General Wolfe," as the soldier 
who, leaning on his musket, is casting a last look 
of affection on his dying leader. Fame, however, 
had not saved Jack from penury, and his present 
resource was that of vending those old-fashioned 


matches which lucifers have driven out of use. A 
more poetical traffic was that of the far-famed 
Mother Goose, who, sitting at the Star gate, in her 
heavy cloak, ruffled cap, and trim little hat, was ready 
to curtsey a welcome to the coaches as they rolled up 
one after another, and to present her basket of 
flowers to " pretty ladies " within. She was a great 
favourite with university men, who christened her 
"Flora"; but she did business now and then with 
nobler customers than these. When the Eegent 
passed through on his way to Bibury Eaces, it was 
his custom to change horses at the Lamb and Flag, 
so as to avoid the crowd and confusion which his 
changing them at the Star would have created, and 
as Mother Goose never failed to appear with her 
usual offering, the kind-hearted voluptuary would 
take one of her bouquets and fling her a guinea* 
We may be sure no one in Oxford cried " God save 
the Eegent " with more loyalty than Mother Goose. 

If we turn from the streets to the Broad Walk 
we may encounter a greater character even than 
Mother Goose, in the person of " Counsellor Bicker- 
ton," 1 attired in his shabby gown, and dilapidated 
cap, with enormous curled wig and band, haranguing 
up and down, without consciousness of observers. 
He had been a member of Hertford College, where, 
spite of all efforts to get rid of him, he still claimed 
rooms, and was so miserably poor that he was said 
to cut branches from the trees in the quad for fuel. 
On one occasion, said the wits, he quietly severed 


the branch on which he sat, and came to the ground. 
He was the usual butt of these wits, and one (a 
Mr. Tawney, we believe of Exeter) published The 
Lucubrations of Counsellor Bickerton. The Coun- 
sellor was not offended, but entered the publisher's 
shop, and seriously proposed a share in the division 
of the profits in recompense for the liberty taken 
with his name ! His habits were as singular as his 
ideas. Fancying himself the Principal of Hertford, 
he thought it inconsistent with his dignity to rise 
before noon, or retire to rest before daybreak. His 
favourite mania, however, was the Law. Dubbing 
himself a barrister, he carried everywhere in his 
pocket a portentous wig, which was drawn forth 
and donned whenever he supposed himself called 
on to speak At a meeting of the Bible Society 
when the business was over, and the audience on 
the point of dispersing, the poor enthusiast clapped 
on his wig, mounted one of the benches, and 
astonished his hearers with an oration, which, for 
once, displayed a trifle of sense and lucidity. His 
exhibitions, however, were sometimes more ludi- 
crous. A barrister, he very justly argued, should 
"go circuit." Accordingly, a battered post-chaise 
was purchased; its shafts altered to suit a single 
horse; and in this vehicle the Counsellor followed 
the Judges, and offered his services to any client 
that required them. As none, however, came for- 
ward, it was Bis custom to rise and censure in a 
lengthy speech, the conduct of the judge, jury, 


prosecutor, and defendant alike, till expelled from 
the court. 

"Great wit from madness what thin bounds 
divide," says Dryden, and the occasional eccentrici- 
ties of the strong - headed Dr. Tatham 1 not un- 
frequently rivalled the exploits of poor Bickerton. 
It was his own soher opinion that to him, and him 
alone, was owing the overthrow of Buonaparte, and 
the consequent glory of Great Britain. The Bank, 
he said, refused Pitt advances, and the war must 
have dropped, had not a pamphlet of his own, advo- 
cating the establishment of a rival bank, frightened 
the old lady of Threadneedle-street into a loan 
the war was continued, and the usurper overthrown. 
More notable, however, was his celebrated sermon 
on Oxford education, a discourse of an hour and 
three-quarters, whose excessive length drove even a 
prelate, who was among his auditors, out of church 
from sheer fatigue. It was a vehement attack on 
what he termed the Aristotelian mode of education 
at Oxford, and, in many respects, a just one. "You 
profess to educate the youth of the country," he 
argued, " but your students require a visit to conti- 
nental capitals to complete their education." He 
proposed the introduction of modern languages and 
history, and seems, in some of his suggestions, to 
have been a reformer before his age. He was prob- 
ably the last punster in an university pulpit. 
"What with your little-goes and your great-goes, 
I fear education will give you the by-go," said the 


indignant doctor. But if he was an ardent reformer 
he was none the less an ardent Tory, and when the 
Oxford volunteers, who mustered at the time 800 
strong, were drawn up on review, in two divisions, 
Dr. Tatham rode along their ranks, promising to 
pension the widow of the first man who fell in his 
country's cause. As volunteering is revived, we 
record this promise of the doctor's as a hint to its 

We have not space enough to dwell in very great 
detail on the little fragments of our local lustory 
which we have gleaned. We can only notice " the 
Linen Draper" of Oxford, a person named Smith, 
whose shop was on Carfax, and who seems to have 
had so complete a monopoly of his trade, that when 
he went out he could afford to lock up his shop ; if 
a customer came in during his dinner-hour, he was 
requested to call again, and during his annual journey 
to London to make purchases, the shop was closed 
for a week until his return as an evidence of the 
great revolution which has been created by com- 
petition in trades. Or we can glance at Atkins, 
the City Marshal, strutting about in his laced hat 
and coat, and carrying his long staff, with the city 
arms painted on its top, with all the self-importance 
of beadledom. Or passing, as the quarter-boys 
strike eight in the morning, at Carfax^ we may see 
"Little Dickey James" passing in to read early 
prayers, whose diminutive stature had made him 
the subject of a few practical jokes. The fall of one 


of tlie quarter-boys soon produced an advertisement, 
in which u tke Little Doctor" (as, though but M.A., 
he was generally called) was made to announce his 
intention of offering himself as a candidate for the 
post. Or we may meet "Johnny," the Oriel 
messenger, scudding along on his crutches faster 
than ordinary legs could carry him; or Barber 
Dennet, with aprou and tongs, proceeding to deco- 
rate the gentlemen's heads before their dinner- 
hour. But these and other topics we may touch 
on a future occasion. 


IN our sketches of the Smart of the Last Century we 
had occasion to introduce Amherst's picture of the 
farmer of the time, in his "linsey woolsey coat, 
greasy sunburnt head of hair, clouted shoes, yarn 
stockings, napping hats with silver hat-bands, and 
long muslin neckcloths run with red at the bottom." 
Figures like these were the jest of every wit who 
paraded the High ; fops lisped out their sneers at the 
" Aborigines," and their very sons, " metamorphosed 
into complete Smarts, d d the old country putts, 
their fathers, with twenty foppish airs and gesticula- 
tions." The severance between town and country 
was indeed a marked feature of the earlier part of 
the century which we are treating. To the writers 
of the Spectator school a farmer was but a synonym 
for a mixture of ignorance and excess; novelists, 
like Fielding in his Sguwe Western, depicted him 
as a compound of passion and brutality, whose 
oaths alternated with his potations. Even Swift, 
writing soberly to Pope, says "In how few hours 
with a swift hors.e or a strong jade may a man come 


among a people as unknown to him as the Anti- 
podes." The ignorance was reciprocated by the 
rustic of the country. A stranger from London was 
looked upon as a Whig in disguise ; the vicar declared 
him "no churchman/' and hinted his suspicions of 
" no religion at all." 

The causes of this great severance have been par- 
tially noticed before. First among them was the 
condition of the roads. About 1760 "the roads of 
Oxfordshire," says an accurate observer, " were in a 
condition formidable to the bones of all who travelled 
on wheels. The two great turnpikes which crossed 
the country by Witney and Chipping Norton, by 
Henley and Wycombe, were repaired in some places 
with stones as large as they could be brought from 
the quarry, and, when broken, left so rough as to be 
calculated for dislocation rather than exercise." l The 
heavy stage waggons, whose broad wheels alone 
made an impression on these formidable masses, 
were stopped for days or weeks by floods and snow. 
Bridges were scarce, save in the vicinity of towns, 
and lighter vehicles often found themselves exposed 
to serious danger in crossing the fords. Pope, who 
often passed through Oxford on his way to Colonel 
Dormer's, nearly lost his life through an accident of 
this kind. His carriage was overturned, and the 
poor poet, at the last moment, had to be dragged 
through its windows. 2 The country lanes were, of 
course, incomparably worse. "The cross roads," 
says our informant, " were impassable but with real 


danger." The neighbouring farmers' horses had 
often to be borrowed to drag the luckless voyagers 
out of these Sloughs of Despond. Sometimes, as in 
the case of the Prince of Orange, it became necessary 
to make a flank march through the farmers' fields. 
The latter part of the century saw the almost total 
abolition of this great obstacle to national inter- 
communication. "A noble change," writes Young, 
in 1809, "has taken place, but generally by turnpikes 
which cross the county in every direction, so that 
when you are at one town you have a turnpike road 
to every other town. This holds good with Oxford, 
Woodstock, "Witney, Burfordj Chipping Xorton, 
Banbury, Bicester, Thame, Abingdon, Wallingford, 
Henley, Beading, etc. etc., and in every direction, 
and these lines necessarily intersect the county in 
every direction. The parish roads are greatly im- 
proved, but are still capable of much more. The 
turnpikes are very good, and, where gravel is to be 
had, excellent." 1 Along these roads rolled hundreds 
of coaches, whose superiority to the speed of all 
previous means of locomotion was as great as is the 
superiority of steam to their own. That great array 
of mail coaches in front of the Post-Office on the 
first of May, a spectacle on which De Quincey, in his 
Autobiography, dwells with such delight, was sug- 
gestive of something more than material progress. 
To every thoughtful observer they must have seemed 
the great weapons by which England was gathering 
up her severed parts into one united whole ; which 


were knitting town to country, and country to town ; 
which were bringing rural honesty and truth and 
fearlessness to bear upon the social depravity of the 
metropolis, and carrying the civilization of the 
metropolis to the most secluded districts of the 

Another great obstacle, to which this century did 
not apply any efficient remedy, arose from the mul- 
titudes of highwaymen who infested the roads. 
We have already dwelt upon the daring exploits 
which made these ruffians the heroes at once of the 
ladies' closet and the thieves' gin-cellar ; and, in our 
account of Dumas, have striven to realize, as much 
as possible, the life and adventures of one of the 
fraternity. But, besides the element of romance, 
and the longing for "plunder," which made "the 
road" so fashionable a profession, an additional in- 
ducement to crime seems to have been afforded by 
its comparative security. Here and there, indeed, 
individual travellers, like Mr. Stanley, might carry 
weapons and make a fight for it, and it is due to the 
prudence of the Dick Turpins of this time to own 
that in such cases they shewed the utmost facility 
in running away, if a correspondence with their 
Sultanas fell into the hands of inquisitive innkeepers, 
or an encounter with a personage of high rank set 
the Bow-street runners on them; but, for the most 
part, the plunderers were unmolested. Hair-dressers 
and tailors, for these were the trades that furnished 
most recruits to the host of the highway, had nothing 


to do but to buy a pistol out of their master's till, 
steal the best horse in the neighbourhood, and levy 
black-mail on whom they would. If travellers ran 
scarce, or the road became dangerous, it was easy to 
assemble a gang of a dozen, and break into a farm- 
house or a rectory. The newspapers of the time are 
crowded with outrages such as these. If secured, 
ladies visited the hero in prison, and petitioned for 
his pardon, while the ruined walls, and confederates 
within and without, offered every opportunity for 
escape. Under such circumstances, it is no wonder 
that people, convinced of the inemeacy of the law, 
began to take the question of Police into their own 
hands. "Divers felonies and depredations," says an 
advertisement in the Oxford Journal for 1783, 
"having been lately made and committed on the 
persons and property of the Inhabitants of Oxford, 
its suburbs, and neighbourhood, it has been resolved 
to promote an association for the joint protection of 
the subscribers, and for prosecuting all persons guilty 
of Felonies committed upon any of the members of 
the said association, as well as for rewarding such 
persons as shall give information, apprehend, or 
bring to conviction any offender or offenders.'* l The 
Mayor for the time being was, by the rules, con- 
stituted Treasurer, and associated in committee with 
fourteen other members, Mr. Aid, Tawney, Mr. Aid. 
Tongue, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Morrell, Mr. Taunton, Mr. 
Shortland, Mr. Lock, Mr. Burford, Mr. James 
Fletcher, jun., Mr. John Walker, Mr. Thomas Prickett, 


Mr. Francis Gulden, and the Bailiffs of the city. 
For the detection of a burglar or incendiary, a 
regard of ten guineas was offered ; half that sum was 
given for the discovery of a highway or a foot robber, 
or a receiver of stolen goods ; and smaller sums in 
proportion for crimes of less consequence. No com- 
promise with persons arrested was to be allowed, and 
the prosecutor's share of all rewards, given by Act 
of Parliament, was to be added to the premium 
offered by the society for their apprehension. 1 A 
similar association was formed, with still higher re- 
wards, by "gentlemen, farmers, and others, in the 
neighbourhood of Abingdon." 2 Oxfordshire and 
Buckinghamshire seem to have combined for the 
purpose, and the organization, as we find from 
advertisements, spread rapidly over all the neigh- 
bouring counties. How little terror these announce- 
ments caused among the fraternity, we may see 
from the following item of Oxford news, for February 
28, 1784. "Between seven and eight o'clock last 
Monday evening, one of the Bath coaches was 
robbed upon the galloping ground above Bottley, 
about two miles and a half from this city, by two 
men on foot, who took from the passengers upwards 
of 24r in money, with their watches. But at the 
request of the driver, they returned all the watches 
except one, and went off with their booty. There 
were six passengers in the coach, and two outsides." 
We need not stop to dwell on the subsidiary 
causes which hindered intercourse between country 


and town, but, in these days of tourist and excursion 
trains, it is impossible to avoid the mention of one. 
Nothing, perhaps, can be considered a stronger 
characteristic of our own age than the taste for 
scenery which has been diffused through every 
grade of society. Prince and peasant alike hurry 
from home on every chance interval of leisure, and 
deem themselves abundantly repaid for trouble and 
expense by the view of a mountain, or a peep at a 
waterfall But this perception of the picturesque, 
this intense relish for natural beauty was denied 
to our forefathers. The very phrases which they 
habitually employ to characterise scenes of surpass- 
ing sublimity were such as " a horrid grandeur," or 
a " rugged waste." Men of taste were no better than 
their fellows. Goldsmith, who saw the perfection of 
rural beauty in the flat meadows and sluggish canals 
of Holland, could see in Scotland nothing but fright- 
ful precipices and bare and savage solitudes. It may 
be said that to this time was left the task of dis- 
covering the sublimity of Snowdon or Ben Nevis, 
or the picturesque beauty of the Lakes. A poet of 
the last age might sing of nightingales and sunrise, 
but his very expressions betray that he had never 
heard the one or seen the other. He might play at 
pastorals with Phyllis and Corydon, but his Phyllises 
wore red-heeled shoes, and his Corydons wielded the 
dice box. The essayists of this time found no sub- 
ject more amusing than the disgust of a man about 
town at the humdrum monotony of a country life. 


Sir John with bis long stories over the bottle, Lady 
Prue with her genealogies and embroidery, the 
daughters with their hoydenish familiarities and 
hands fresh from pudding-making, the sons with 
their eternal dog and gun, were terrible bores to the 
Exquisite who had supped with Selwyn or gambled 
with March. 

We cannot, however, turn away with these from 
this simple life of the country. We shall follow 
these farmers as they trot homewards, and get what 
scanty glimpses we can of their life and manners, 
of their system of cultivation, and the great changes 
in the modes of farming which were at this time 
gradually introduced. In the course of this task we 
shall doubtless often have to crave the indulgence of 
our readers. The details of a farmer's system require 
a special knowledge which we cannot claim to pos- 
sess, and the materials which are at our command are 
far too scanty to enable us to give the full account 
which we should desire. We can, however, but 
attempt the task, praying in the merry words of old 

And grant me now, 
Thou reader, thou ! 
Of terms to use, 
Such choice to choose, 
As may delight 
The country wight, 

And knowledge bring ; 

For such do praise 
The country phrase, 


The country act% 
The country facts, 
The country toys, 
Before the joys 

Of any thing. 


THE character of the Oxfordshire farmer experienced 
a remarkable change during the progress of the last 
century. The great spread of education, the varia- 
tions in the mode of culture, the closer ties "by which 
country hegan to be bound to town, all tended to 
improve and civilize them. " Enclosing," says Arthur 
Young, at the end of the century, " to a greater pro- 
portional amount than in almost any other county in 
the kingdom has changed the men as much as it has 
improved the country ; they are now in the ebullition 
of this change ; a vast amelioration has been wrought 
and is working. The Goths and Vandals of open 
fields touch the civilisation of enclosures." 1 The 
capital of trade was beginning to be thrown into 
the cultivation of the land. Mr. Taunton was paring 
and burning hundreds of acres of waste land at En- 
sham, and, though fanners laughed at the mistakes of 
the town-bred agriculturist, he was in reality but the 
sign of the revolution which was creeping over the 
whole system of English farming. 3 

But, "Forty years ago," the same writer confesses, 


" I found them a very different race from what they 
are at present." Even in the midst of this great 
advance, "a great deal of ignorance and barbarity 
remains." "When I passed from the conversation of 
the farmers I was recommended to call on to that of 
men whom chance threw in my way, I seemed to have 
lost a century in time, or* to have moved a thousand 
miles in a day. Liberal communication, the result 
of enlarged ideas, was contrasted with a dark ignor- 
ance under the covert of wise suspicions ; a sullen 
reserve lest landlords should be rendered too know- 
ing, and false information given under the hope that 
it might deceive, were in such opposition that it 
was easy to see the change, however it might work, 
had not done its business. The old open-field school 
must die off before new ideas can become generally 
rooted." 1 This retrograde class, the exceptions of 
the close of the century, were fair representatives of 
the bulk of the agriculturists during the greater 
part of it. The tenant of his small holding, the 
holding of his father and grandfather, whose acres 
seemed bound up with his family history, had little 
to draw him out of the vegetative life of his fellows. 
The little circle round the fire at the village inn con- 
stituted his world; their chat furnished him with 
his news and information. The Journal indeed had 
sprung up of late, but a newspaper was still a 
novelty, and to the bulk who could not read, and 
made their cross in the parish register, a somewhat 
useless one. His only excursions were a " run " with 


the Squired pack, and the journeys to market for the 
disposal of his produce. The great Bible served for 
his library, and was treasured perhaps more for the 
fly-leaf, with its entries of births, marriages, and 
deaths, than for the rest of its contents. Schools 
were "for his betters," and learning he looked down 
on as something "lackadaisical" Lilly, the astrologer, 
whose family were yeomen in the obscure town of 
Diseworth, In Leicestershire, describes it amusingly 
as "a town of great rudeness, wherein it is not re- 
membered that any of the farmers thereof did ever 
educate any of their sons to learning." l There were 
probably no such towns as Diseworth in the England 
of that day, but a village school was still a rarity. 
The farmer's home was the great kitchen, with its 
warm chimney corners, where the huge flitches hung 
amid the smoke for winter consumption. Wife and 
daughters were busy spinning flax for the countless 
sheets and counterpanes that filled the walnut presses 
in the bedroom, and the hum of the wheels enlivened 
the dull evenings. It was not the farmer's wife only 
whose wheel hummed so merrily ; the labourer's wife 
had the same resource. In the middle of the last 
century " every cottage at Baldon had a plot of hemp, 
and all manufactured into linen for their own con- 
sumption, selling what they could spare"; but its 
close saw the extinction of this household manufac- 
ture. "The last," adds Young, writing in 1809, 
" was given up about six years ago." 2 

It was a time of transition for much besides hemp 


plots. The whole face of the country was under- 
going a great change by the rapid progress of en- 
closures. Before the accession of George II. scarcely 
an Enclosure Act can be discovered, but at the close 
of the last century " very nearly the whole range of 
country, 13 miles, from Banbury to Chipping-Xorton 
is enclosed by Act of Parliament, and improved in 
product very greatly." l Burford, Young speaks of as 
"enclosed 12 years ago." 2 Culham-heath was still 
unenclosed, "the reddest sand (near Xuneham lodge) 
covered with thick fern a sure proof everywhere of 
what is below it." 3 Enclosure, adds Young, "has 
been the capital improvement of the county, for 
proportionately to the extent of it more land has 
been enclosed since I first travelled in it, which is 
about 40 years ago, I conceive, than in any county in 
England." 4 The statistics fully justify this assertion. 
During the first forty years of the reign of George IIL 
sixty-seven Enclosure Acts for this county had passed 
through Parliament, forty-one of which seem to have 
been carried into effect, and the amount of land thus 
utilised was little less than 100,000 acres, or some- 
what more than one-fifth of the county. One con- 
sequence was a sensible diminution in the wheat 
produce. The 4882 acres of wheat grown before 
these Enclosure Acts actually decreased by 112. 
Tinder the head of oats, however, as well as cattle, 
dairy land, sheep pasture, and turnips, we find 
a considerable increase. Burford is an instance : 
since its enclosure "it has not produced so much 


corn, but infinitely more mutton and beef." Eents 
rose rapidly, as the produce increased. "Fringford 
has been improved greatly in rent and produce since 
the enclosure, at least trebled in both ; Stoke Lyne 
the same. . . . Stratton Ardley was 500 a year, 
now it is ,2500: one estate there was offered for 
3000, it is now 800 per annum." Eents round 
Bicester were trebled ; at Alvescot the vicarage farm 
rose from 200 to 600 a year; Wootton, "Mr. 
Sotham has not the least doubt of having yielded 
full four times the produce in the 37 years since its 
enclosure that it did in a like period before, and the 
rent is five times as much as it was in the open 
state." Xor did the rise in rent press heavily on 
those who paid it; "at Barton the land was let for 
scarcely anything, and the fanners generally as poor 
as could be; enclosed it let at twenty shillings an 
acre, and the farmers in easy circumstances and 
doing well, and in all of them the farmers in general 
very much benefitted." l Other districts, however, 
resisted for a long time the introduction of en- 
closures. Campsfield, the open common between 
Oxford and "Woodstock, where we have seen the 
Oxford fast men taking their morning drive, still 
hung on to its old "rights," its cow common and com- 
mon meadows, where wretched cross-bred sheep were 
tended by " shepherds miserably poor." 2 Whichwood 
still spreads over its 7000 acres, filling its vicinity 
with "poachers, deer-stealers, and pilferers of every 
kind. . . . Oxford gaol would be uninhabited were 


it not for this fertile source of crimes." 1 Most 
stubborn of all was Otmoor, where the " commoners " 
were backed by the opposition of Lord Abingdon, 
and enjoyed the low flat, with its periodical inunda- 
tions, its " rot," and " moor-evil," undisturbed. 2 Long 
after, at a time just previous to the passing of the 
Reform Bill, the carrying out of the enclosure in 
that distiict gave rise to the notable Otmoor riots, 
which still linger in the recollection of many of our 

Great changes, too, were taking place in what we 
may call the interior economy of the farm. Oxford- 
shire became noted for the neatness and regularity 
of its rickyards. The farmers, says Young, "have 
a proper pride in a clean and well ordered rickyard 
and are sure to walk a stranger into them. They 
form so perfect a contrast to the ragged heaps called 
stacks, by the courtesy of Suffolk and Norfolk, that 
I have returned to my own county and farm with 
no little disgust." 3 The thrashing mill, though a 
new invention at the close of the last century, was 
rapidly superseding the flail Other implements 
made slower progress. In 1807 only a few drills 
had crept into the county, scarifiers and scuffiers 
were " very rare indeed," and not a single horse-hoe 
was to be seen nearer than Henley-bridge.* Horse- 
hoeing Young notes as "quite unknown in Oxford- 
shire." 6 The system of rotation of crops was still 
regarded in some quarters as an innovation ; 6 there 
were but one or two fields of cabbage ; rape was only 


to be found on tlie rich red land north of Banbury. 
Swedes were in 1807 just beginning to attract atten- 
tion, but at Milton where Sir 0. Willoughby, the 
great patron of the plant, had covered considerable 
tracts of land with it, there had been none five 
years before. 1 In this branch of agriculture Oxford- 
shire seems to have taken the lead among English 
counties. In other respects it was not so ad- 
vanced. Nature had her own water-meadows at 
Watereaton, where the summer floods would some- 
times sweep away five hundred pounds worth of 
hay in a season, 3 but there was not a single artificial 
water-meadow in the county. Where attempts were 
made to introduce them they were frustrated by the 
opposition of the millers. 3 Artificial manure in the 
shape of peat or coal ash had begun to make 
its appearance under the patronage of Mr. Pane. 4 
Southdowns were being gradually introduced " to the 
exclusion of the Berkshires"; 5 the Ohilterns produced, 
says a competent witness, half as much again as they 
did thirty years before, and the increase was attri- 
butable to " the increase of live stock by more turnips 
and artificial grass." 6 

Of the condition of the labourer we only gain in- 
cidental glimpses. His wages, too, had risen more 
than a third in the last forty years of the eighteenth 
century. At its close his wages amounted to about 
nine or ten shillings a week, with a rise to twelve 
shillings in harvest. This was at a time when, in 
the Oxford Market, beef was at 7|d. per pound, and 


the quartern loaf at Dd. 1 " There are gardens, and 
good ones, to nine-tenths of the cottages I have seen 
in Oxfordshire." And he adds a curious fact, * fc A 
few years ago they had no potatoes ; now all have 
them. Formerly, they did not like that root with 
their bacon, only cabbage; at present, they are 
generally eaten." 2 Of their occasional hardships, 
and how much these have been relieved by national 
progress, we gain a glimpse in the following note. 
"Before the navigable canal, about 1780, the people 
at Heyford were greatly distressed for firing, wood 
being scarce; they were obliged to burn straw, 
etc., or anything they could procure ; but now 
as well supplied with coals as any village in 
Oxfordshire." 3 

Far greater distress, however, than that of the 
agricultural labourers was the lot of the manufac- 
turing hands at Witney, Thame, and Woodstock. 
In the middle of the last century there were above 
five hundred weavers in full employ at Witney, but 
it sank gradually to below half that number, and so 
great were the fluctuations of the trade, that though 
revived for a time by the introduction of spinning 
jennies, it sank in the five years preceding 1807 
from four hundred to one hundred and fifty. At 
Thame a little lace manufacture was insufficient to 
save the town from "depressing poverty," which 
was enhanced by the high price of coals, 2s. 2d. per 
cwt. Greater still were the fluctuations in the 
trade of "Woodstock. At the beginning of the 


century, the manufacture of articles of polished steel 
was introduced by a !Mr. Metcalfe, and to such a 
height was it carried, that a chain of two ounces was 
sold for ^ITO, 1 the box in which the freedom of the 
borough was presented to Viscount Cliefden cost 
30 guineas, and a garter star for the Duke of Mail- 
borough 50 guineas, while a pair of scissors sold in 
proportion to their workmanship, at from 5s. to 3 
guineas. At the close of the century, however, the 
trinkets of Birmingham and Sheffield had driven 
these articles from the market, and not more than 
a dozen hands were employed in their manufacture. 
About 1750, however, the manufacture of leather 
into breeches and gloves, had been established here, 
and in 1807 no less than sixty to seventy men were 
engaged as "grounders" and "cutters," at wages 
of from a guinea to 30s. a week, and from 1400 to 
1500 women, who earned from 8s. to 12s. So 
flourishing was the trade at this time, that the manu- 
facture had risen, in ten years, from thirty dozen 
to four hundred dozen per week. In addition to 
these manufacturing centres, we may notice that 
the general employment of the female poor, at the 
close of the eighteenth century, was in the south of 
the county lace-maMng, while spinning prevailed 
through the north and midland portions. 2 The 
average of the county poor-rates was 4s. 8d. in the 
pound, but these varied greatly in different parts, 
from the 2s. rates of Kelmscott, to 10s, at Burford, 
and 14s., in the scarcity, at Bensington. The poor- 


rate for the city in 1803 (the date of these statistics) 
seems to have been slightly below the average of the 
county, amounting to 4s. 4d. in the pound. 1 We have 
only to add, that at the beginning of the present 
century, the population of the city was estimated at 
about 13,000, that of the county at 96,000. 2 


So much interest has been taken in the restoration 
of the City Kaces, that we may perhaps find some 
little entertainment in a glance at them a century 
ago. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, in the 
month of July, were the days selected for the sport ; 
the piincipal prize was the gold cup of one hundred 
guineas in value (in addition to 40 in specie) ; the 
town purse of 50 for five-year-olds ; a stake of the 
same value for four-year-olds ; and a ,50 gift from 
the stewards. Lord Abingdon, Lord Robert Spencer, 
Sir James Whalley Gardiner, and Captain Bertie 
(then master of the hounds) and Mr. Bowler, seem 
to have been the chief patrons of the sport. Dur- 
ing the period of the races, Oxford was a scene of 
gaiety. Public breakfasts alternated with the balls 
and musical entertainments of the evening; while, 
for the less refined, there were matches in the 
Cockpit, in Holywell, "each morning of the races, 
between the gentlemen of Oxford and the gentlemen 
of Watlington for five guineas a battle, and fifty 
guineas the odd battle," 1 and E.O., upon which we 


find the Mayor and constables busy in effecting a 
razzia. 1 Itinerant hairdressers came down from 
London to prepare the elaborate head-dresses of the 
ladies who flocked in from every quarter to the races, 
the assemblies, and " Mr. Sadler's balloon." 2 

The ascent of a balloon, so ordinary an event with 
us, was in 1784 a new discovery, for the honour 
and precedence in which France and England were 
eager in contending. To the unscientific it seemed 
little less than a miracle. " Mr. Eudge, of Queen's," 
was not the only college Fellow who launched these 
wondrous machines amid the applause of the univer- 
sity; nor the Marquis of Blandford the only peer 
who considered it an honour to cut the string that 
fastened it to the earth. 3 But this interest rose to 
its greatest height when adventurers trusted them- 
selves to this frail means of ascent. One of the 
first of such exploits, in England, was the ascent 
of Mr. Sadler from the Physic Garden, November 
12, 1784 The accounts notice "a surprizing con- 
course of people of all ranks ; the roads, streets, fields, 
trees, buildings, and towers of the parts adjacent 
being crowded beyond description." After crossing 
Otmoor, Thame, etc., the balloon descended near Sir 
William Lee's; and on the aeronaut's arrival in Oxford, 
"the populace seized the chaise at the entrance of 
the town, took off the horses, dragged the carriage 
through several of the principal streets of this city, 
and were not content till they had compelled the 
inhabitants to illuminate their houses." 4 


Balloons were not the only amusements which 
Oxford had to offer her visitors or inhabitants. The 
Music-room was at this time at the height of its 
prosperity. Every Monday evening a concert of 
vocal and instrumental music was held (except dur- 
ing September and Passion week) ; the Messiah was 
performed in. Lent, some other oratorio in Act 
Term, and in Easter and Michaelmas Terms either 
a piece of choral music, or a grand miscellaneous 
concert. The subsciiption was a guinea for two 
tickets, a sum so small that we* wonder how the 
stewards could provide, as they undoubtedly did, 
such singers as Mara and Catalan! The amuse- 
ments of Oxford seem to have been softened and 
refined by the character of the place. "While Want- 
age had its back-sword feast, and Stow-on-the-Wold 
offered the munificent prizes of " half-a-guinea to each 
man breaking a head, and two shillings and six pence 
to each man having his head broke," 1 Oxford was 
unobtrusively fostering "Florist Feasts," the humble 
precursors of our Horticultural Societies. " A show 
of Carnations in the Town Hall, August 8, 1782," 2 
seems to have been one of the first of these exhibi- 
tions, which, from this time, continued to be held annu- 
ally. No theatre was, as yet, established at Oxford ; 
but a flourishing dramatic company could be found at 
Burford, andat^Yoodstock An advertisement, warning 
all trespassers off the domains of Lord Harcourt, 3 would 
seem to point to the first origin of that most enjoyable 
of all quiet amusements a water-party to Nuneham, 


It was from Nuneham that King George, with his 
Queen, and the Princes Ernest, Augustus, Adolphus ; 
the Princesses Royal, Augusta, and Elizabeth, visited 
Oxford, September 13, 1785. This event, at any 
time an interesting one for Oxford, was especially 
notable as a sign and seal of that great change 
in the position of antagonism which the city had 
occupied up to the accession of the present king 
towards the Hanoverian dynasty. From Jacobite 
Oxford had become Tory, and was free once more 
to bask in the sunshine of royal favour. There 
were recent obligations due to her which George III. 
was of all men least likely to forget. In the heat 
of the great struggle in which Pitt, with the aid 
of the King, eventually succeeded in breaking for 
ever the oligarchic yoke of the great Whig houses, 
Oxford had come to the aid of the minister in his 
encounters with a hostile majority ; had expressed to 
the Bang its " most cordial thanks for your Majesty's 
late goodness and wisdom in removing from your coun- 
cils " the heads of the coalition ministry of Fox and 
North; adding, "at the same time we intreat your 
Majesty to accept our hearty congratulations upon 
the appointment of a Ministry who, we have reason 
to believe, are equal in ability and virtue to the 
important trust they have undertaken, and in every 
respect deserving the confidence of the people at 
large, so generally bestowed upon them." "We 
shall ever be ready," said the address in conclusion, 
"to support the constitutional exercise of all your 


royal prerogatives, and we will not cease to implore 
the blessing of Almighty God upon a Prince whose 
exemplary life and character have so justly rendered 
him the object of universal veneration and esteem." 1 
This address they even prevailed on their member, 
Lord Kobert Spencer, though himself in opposition, 
to present to the King. Reward was not long in 
coming. Warton, the fellow of an Oxford college, 
was now the court laureate, and, for the first time 
since the accession of the Georges, Oxford shared 
with Cambridge the honour of a royal visit. The 
royal party, accompanied by the Earl and Countess 
of Harcourt, entered the city in five carriages, and 
passing through the fields behind Merton College, 
attended morning prayers at the Cathedral. After 
inspecting Christ Church, they were waited upon at 
Corpus by the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Dennis, Presi- 
dent of St. John's College, preceded by the Beadles, 
"with their staves inverted," who conducted them 
by the Schools to the Theatre, where the Heads of 
Houses and the Proctors had the honour of kissing 
their Majesties' hands, while Dr. Hayes performed 
several overtures on the organ. After visiting the 
Bodleia^ New College, St. John's, and the Obser- 
vatory, the King returned to the Council Chamber, 
and conferred the honour of knighthood on the 
Mayor (John Treacher, Esq.), who, with the Alder- 
men, assistants, and other members of the Corpora- 
tion, kissed hands. All Souls', Queen's, and Magdalen, 
having been inspected, the royal party quitted 


Oxford at a little past five, and returned by Lord 
Harcourt's to Windsor. It may interest future in- 
vestigators into royal costume to know that "his 
Majesty and the young Princes were in a blue 
and gold uniform, the Queen in a plain lilac silk, the 
Princess Royal and Princess Elizabeth in pale blue, 
and Princess Augusta in light green," The enthusiasm 
of the citizens seems to have been boundless. Bells 
rang incessantly from, the arrival of the royal family 
till their departure, and at night the city was "grandly 
illuminated." l 

The mention of the Mayor, whom this accolade 
converted into Sir John Treacher, reminds us that 
the year immediately preceding had been distin- 
guished by three Mayoralties. The Mayor for the 
year beginning September 1782 was Mr. William 
Fletcher, mercer ; the Bailiffs being Mr- Christopher 
Yeats and Mr. John Collis. 2 His successor was Mr. 
John Watson, with Mr. Stephen Haynes and Mr. 
William Costar, Bailiffs. 3 On the 29th of March, in the 
succeeding year (1784), Mr. Watson died, and, as an 
election was close at hand, and a returning officer 
necessary, Mr. Isaac Lawrance was elected in his 
place for the remainder of the year of office. 4 July, 
however, saw the death of Mr. Lawrance, at the age 
of seventy ; 5 and the Mayoralty now fell to Alderman 
Edward Tawney, 6 who was more fortunate than his 
predecessors. Nicholas Halse, Esq., held the chief 
magistracy during the following year, with Mr. 
Pears and Mr, Bush, Bailiffs. 7 Mr. Halse had pre- 


viously been elected Assistant in the year 1 783. l The 
only event connected with the Corporation recorded 
during these four years, from 1782 to 1785, was the 
opening of u the organ, just erected, hy Mr, Green, 
of London, for the Corporation of this city," in 
Carfax Church, by a voluntary played by Dr. Hayes, 
which ushered in the procession of Mayor and 
Aldermen. Mr. Cross was appointed organist, for 
whose benefit the oratorio of Judas Maccabseus was 
performed in St. Martin's. 2 

The election which caused so hasty a re-election 
of Mayor, was caused by that dissolution of Parlia- 
ment by Pitt, which resulted in the return of a 
triumphant majority in his favour, and the annihila- 
tion of the old Whig faction. But, though Oxford 
had been so lavish of fair words, the yoke was too 
strong to be thrown off, and the old members, Lord 
Robert Spencer and Captain Bertie, though open 
followers of Fox, were returned without opposition. 3 
The scene was hardly more creditable at Banbury, 
where the territorial influence of Lord North secured 
his re-election. " Some disgust having been conceived 
at a former election, relative to the beer which had 
been withheld from the companies of woolcombers, 
weavers, etc., they peremptorily declined accepting 
any favours from his Lordship, and, determining to 
have an election of their own, constituted a corpora- 
tion among themselves. At the time Lord North's 
election was carrying on, the new-created corporation 
passed his Lordship in grand procession, with music, 


flags, and a curious display of the coalition, which 
consisted of a fox and a badger, the latter with a blue 
riband" (Lord North habitually wore the badge of 
the Order of the Garter), " and both suspended from 
a branched pole. The companies having elected their 
member, he was chaired amidst the acclamations of 
more than a thousand people." l The mention of the 
companies in this extract, from the papers of the time, 
is illustrated by the account of the thanksgiving day at 
Salisbury, in the same year, where the effigy of the 
giant, St. Christopher, was escorted by a procession 
of the companies of joiners, shoemakers, weavers, 
tailors, and woolcombers ; the last of which made, on 
this occasion, its " first appearance as a society, and 
added in no small degree to the beauty of the scene ; 
they were preceded by a boy and girl, elegantly 
habited in the dresses of a shepherd and shepherdess, 
and followed by a band of youths, uniformly dressed 
in white, with sashes of various-coloured wool, and 
carrying wands; next came Bishop Blaze in his 
episcopal robes and mitre, holding a prayer-book and 
wool-comb in his hands, mounted on a white horse, 
attended by pages, and followed by his chaplain, also 
mounted on a white steed. The body of combers, 
drest in white uniforms, with sashes of wool, and a 
banner of the same, closed a scene which gave infinite 
satisfaction to the spectators." 2 


with the Imperial Ambassador and a brilliant suite. 1 
A more really beneficial result of the royal visit was 
a present from the King of ,300 towards the release 
of the poor debtors in Oxford gaol, and a remission 
to each of the better-conducted convicts of a part of 
their sentence. By the means of this benefaction the 
Earl of Harcourfc was enabled to effect the discharge 
of twenty-five out of the twenty-seven debtors con- 
fined in the Castle. 2 Benevolence was not confined 
to royalty ; in the month of January of this year 
"five hundred half -peck loaves, a benefaction from 
Sir John Treacher, our late Mayor, were distributed 
among the necessitous freemen and the widows of 
freemen of this city." 3 

Among the more miscellaneous events of this year 
may be noticed one which recalls the more recent 
sacrilege at New College ; the robbery of two pair 
of massive candlesticks and a large silver offertory 
plate from Magdalen Chapel, by an organised gang 
of thieves, who effected an entrance through the 
woodyard and kitchen into the cloisters, and made 
their way into the Chapel by means of a false key. 
They were convicted at the next assizes, two reprieved, 
and Ward, the leader of the gang, executed in the 
month of April. 4 A curious instance of the low 
morality of the times may be seen in the frequency 
of the "Wife Sales." In August 1786 we find that 
" one Broom, of Kennington, near this city, sold his 
wife to a person of the name of Pantin, of Little 
London, for five shillings, to whom she was publicly 


delivered soon after with a halter about her neck ; 
but it seems Pantin was very soon sick of his bargain, 
for in the afternoon of the same day he generously 
made a present of her to Sadler, the Woodward of 
Bagley." 1 And in the year 1789 we find the new 
Oxford market-place selected as the scene of one of 
the brutal barters by a "navvy" employed on the 
canal, who " tied a penny slip round the waist of his 
wife, the end of which he held fast till he had pocketed 
three shillings in part payment, the purchaser not 
abounding in cash; he then put the cord into the 
hands of the new husband and took a French leave. 
The woman immediately called for her second wed- 
ding ring, which being put on she eagerly kissed the 
fellow, with whom she walked off." 2 

The Mayor chosen for the year beginning Septem- 
ber 1786 was Mr. Bichard Weston ; Mr. William 
Forty and Mr. Edward Hatchings being elected 
Bailiffs. 3 In the next month the honorary freedom 
of the city was presented to Sir Charles Nourse and 
Mr. William Jackson, the originator and proprietor 
of the Oxford Journal.* The same honour was in the 
course of the next year conferred on Lord Heath- 
field, better known as General Elliott, the gallant 
defender of Gibraltar, on his casual passage through 
the city. 5 We find the corporation during the year 
1787 distinguishing itself by a crusade against "the 
unlawful practice of forestalling and regrating which 
has lately prevailed in the market of this city " ; 6 but 
our smile at such folly will perhaps be tempered by 


the recollection that at this very time Lord Kenyon 
was busy preaching much the same sort of political 
economy from his seat on the King's Bench. The 
Commemoration of this year was enlivened by a 
public breakfast in Trinity College Gardens. 1 "The 
tables were plentifully and elegantly covered under the 
shade of the lime tree walk near the shrubbery/ 2 We 
instinctively think of Tom Wart on, "gobbling" and 
punning from one table to another, and listening by 
turns to the compliments of the ladies, and what was 
always such a magnet to him, the strains of "the 
Oxford band," Year after year his birthday and 
congratulatory odes meet us now in the columns of 
the Journal. They do not cease till we meet with 
the announcement of Ms burial (May 1790) in the 
college chapel, the funeral being attended by all the 
dignitaries of the university. Antiquarian, one 
might think, even in death, there were found, in 
digging for his grave, some few remains of a for- 
gotten predecessor in the occupation of those last 
few feet of earth, "a buckle about the bigness of 
a crown piece," and " some fine silver thread which 
might probably have belonged to the fringe of his 
girdle." 3 

At the civic election for the year 1788 we find 
Mr. Francis Gulden elected Mayor; Mr. William 
Hyde and Mr. James Tagg bailiffs; Mr. Thomas 
Benwell and Mr. John Cox chamberlains ; while the 
vacancies in the Council Chamber were filled up by 
the election of Mr. William Slatter, Mr. Simon 


Brown, and Mr. Hichard Cox. 1 The mayoralty was 
signalised by another passage of the royal party 
through the city on their way to Cheltenham. 2 In 
May of this year we find " the Oxfordshire Kegiment 
of Militia " quartered in the city for their annual 
exercise of one month reviewed on Port Meadow 
by their colonel, Lord Chas. Spencer, and dismissed 
after a dinner in the Council Chamber. 3 From this 
time the corps seems to have been regularly exercised 
at Bullingdon and elsewhere, and to have excited an 
amount of warlike enthusiasm similar to that which 
is every day springing up more and more around us. 
England was, in fact, unconsciously training for her 
death struggle with that revolutionary power which 
was rapidly rising into greatness on the other side of 
the Channel. Whiggism was beginning to be con- 
founded with Jacobinism, and the loyal corporations 
were everywhere rallying round William Pitt. In 
his struggle with Fox and the Carlton House Whigs, 
on the Regency question, he received the thanks of 
the City of Oxford, in common with "the 267 
patriotic members of the House of Commons, who 
so nobly maintained the rights and privileges 
of the two Houses of Parliament" to supply 
the defect of the personal exercise of the Royal 
authority, in opposition to the hereditary claims 
of the Prince of Wales. 4 The strife was ended 
by the recovery of the King from his temporary fit 
of insanity, and nowhere was that recovery hailed 
with louder rejoicings than at Oxford. A public 


dinner was given by the corporation, the city flag 
was displayed from the tower of St. Martin's, the 
bells rang incessantly throughout the day, and 
drums and fifes paraded the streets. The night was 
the signal for a general illumination, in which the 
colleges ("for the first time," it is noted) shared; the 
walls and palisades of the churches, and the "City 
Colonade" on Carfax, were decorated with lights, 
and scarce a cottage in the suburbs neglected to display 
its owner's loyalty. The Duke of Leinster, who, 
with the rest of the Irish deputation, sent to offer 
the unrestricted Regency to the Prince of Wales, had 
been met in Oxford by the news of the King's 
restoration to health, saw the poor watchmen each 
contributing his pound of candles to ornament his 
box ; and a stage-waggon, stripped of its tilt, with 
the naked hoops studded over with lights, and a group 
of loyal fellows seated within, trolling out loyal 
songs, and passing round the health of King George 
till break of day. 1 Pitt was not forgotten in the 
general exultation. In October 1789 we find him 
passing through the city, in the company of Lord 
Auckland and Lord Henry Spencer, the bells ringing 
almost without pause during the whole time of their 
stay. 2 The mere threat of an attempt at a repeal 
of the Test and Corporation Act revived in 1790 the 
vigour of civic Toryism ; by an unanimous vote of the 
council, the city members and the High Steward 
were requested to oppose the project, 8 and the Duke 
of Marlborough and Lord Abingdon showed ready 


deference to the wishes of what was almost their 

The most interesting event of the year 1789 was 
the falling of the "Founder's Oak" in Magdalen 
Water walks. It stood at their entrance, 1 and, by its 
dimensions and antiquity, had become an object of 
great curiosity. In girth it exceeded 21 feet, in 
height 71 feet, and its cubic contents 754 feet For 
more than nine feet from the ground it was a mere 
shell, and had for a long time been kept from falling 
by two or three roots "scarcely so large as a two- 
inch cable." Its age was estimated at upwards of 
six centuries, and in the fifteenth century it was 
already so notable an object, that "William of Wayn- 
flete expressly ordered his college to be built " nigh 
to it." It is curious that its fall was attributed to 
injuries received so far back as the reign of Charles 
IL, when the present walks were laid out. 2 A portion 
of its timber was applied by the College to the con- 
struction of a large and highly-ornamented chair, and 
numerous snuff-boxes still remain as mementoes of its 

The Mayor for the year 1789 was Mr. John 
Parsons, mercer, Mr. William Wright and Mr. James 
Rowland being chosen bailiffs. 3 The next year saw 
Mr. William Thorp, senior, elevated to the mayoralty, 
while Mr. John Johnson and Mr. Thomas Hardy be- 
came bailiffs, Mr, James Halse and Mr. John Swift 
being elected chamberlains. 4 How carefully the city 
was nursed by this corporation may be seen from 


the transactions connected with the election of Mr. 
Annesley in 1790. Immediately on the arrival of 
the news of Captain Bertie's death, the Mayor con- 
vened the Corporation and the Council, who unani- 
mously put in nomination Arthur Annesley, Esq., 
of Bletchingdon, who was at once ushered into the 
town by many gentlemen of the corporation, and a 
large body of the freemen, with drums, music, and 
colours. A canvass was commenced ; upwards of a 
hundred houses opened for the entertainment of the 
freemen ; and the candidate, after dining with the 
electors at the Angel, was drawn in triumph by the 
crowd, which took the horses from his carriage, 
through the principal streets. The freedom of the 
city was presented him in a gold box, and Mr. 
Annesley returned the compliment by a grand enter- 
tainment to the Council and Chamber in the Town 
HalL In spite, however, of this elaborate prepara- 
tion an opposition candidate was at the last moment 
started, a Mr. Ogilvie, who, however, succeeded in 
polling only 103 votes against the 613 which were 
recorded for his opponent and the Corporation. 1 
Civilities were bandied briskly enough between the 
civic dignitaries and the neighbouring peers, who 
were desirous of a seat for younger sons. Captain 
Parker is presented with the freedom of the city, 
and his father, the Earl of Macclesfield, entertains at 
the Star the members of the Tailors and Cordwainers 
Companies ; " upon which occasion the two honorary 
members," Captain Parker and Lord Parker " were 


each presented with a taylor's silver thimble and a 
silver-bladed shoemaker's awl in an ivory handle." l 
The Town Hall was restored and made commodious 
in 1790, by the orders and at the expense of the 
Marquis of Blandford, while his father, the Duke of 
Marlborough, presented the room with u a magni- 
ficent gilt chandelier and chain." 2 


THE year 1792 found Oxford, in common with the 
rest of the kingdom, eagerly watching the progress 
of revolution in France. Whatever sympathy the 
first outhreak of liberty had excited was being fast 
extinguished by the excesses into which the revolu- 
tion had by this time plunged ; and that reaction 
was commencing which was eventually to defer for 
nearly half a century later the slightest approaches 
to a just reform of the representation. The king's 
head which, to use Danton's daring phrase, France 
threw down as her gage of defiance to Europe, was 
for England the symbol of a Tory despotism founded 
on the horror which that deed of blood excited. 
Addresses of confidence in existing institutions 
became the order of the day. Fearful of the dark 
and stormy sea into which France was so daringly 
launching forth, England clung to the worst and 
most effete abuses, as though a familiar evil were 
hotter than so obscure and uncertain a good. To 
those who are willing to cast aside every obstruction 
or anomaly in their eager reaching forward to a 


political Utopia, the lesson is no valueless one. 
France heaved her way through abuses and anomalies 
to the despotism of the second of December ; England 
amid abuses and inconsistency waited patiently the 
development of her freedom in the great charter 
of 1832. 

Addresses of confidence, as we have said, poured 
rapidly in, in answer to the vigorous exertions of 
the small knot of English republicans who circulated 
so diligently the writings of Tom Paine. Such an 
address we find presented to the Crown in June 
1792 by the Corporation of Oxford. * Kingly 
power," said that address, "wisely limited, is the 
surest safeguard of the rights and liberties of a great 
nation. We have to regret that no branch of the 
British Constitution has failed to meet its full share 
of reproach and calumny. The church, the nobility, 
the representation of the people, have each in their 
turn become the object of direct attack, malignant 
invective, and insidious ridicule." 1 In the month 
of December, in the same year, a "Loyal Associa- 
tion " was formed in the city under the presidency 
of Thomas "Walker, Esq., and with the patronage of 
the authorities both of the university and city, for 
the purpose of declaring the firm attachment of its 
members to " the happy Constitution of this country," 
and of binding them to "oppose, detect, and suppress all 
seditious, treasonable, and inflammatory publications, 
whether in newspapers, printed handbills, ludicrous or 
caricature prints, etc.," and to assist the magistrates 


in the suppression of any riot or disturbance ; and to 
the resolutions of this society the Taylors' Company, 
the most important body in civic politics, gave in 
its formal assent 1 (We may notice in passing that 
the then Mayor, Edward Lock, Esq., had in August 
been elected an honorary member of this company.) 2 
The university was at the same time busy in the 
relief of the French refugee clergy, towards whose 
support the Vice-Chancellor was enabled in November 
to transmit the sum of 500, as a first instalment, 
and in December a further sum of more than ^600. 3 
These expressions of political feeling were not confined 
to the higher classes. In January 1793 we find the 
rabble " parading the streets of this city with lighted 
torches, and bearing about the effigy of Tom Paine," 
amid the shouts of a mob of boys, until the evening, 
when it was committed to the flames on the top of 
Carfax. "The figure was dressed in black, with the 
Eights of Man in his left hand and a pair of stays 
under his right arm." 4 The same ceremony was per- 
formed in the course of the next week at Headington, 
with somewhat more state and dignity. "Colonel 
Langton and Richard Lloyd, Esq., were particularly 
active and zealous on this occasion ; and previous to 
the execution a band of music attended the procession, 
and God save the King was performed, vocally and 
instrumentally, for near five hours, during all which 
time the utmost decorum was observed." 5 As the 
contest became graver we find the first institution 
of that " general fast and humiliation for imploring 


success on our arms, and for restoring the blessings 
of peace to this kingdom," which was afterwards 
observed throughout the whole of the war, on April 
19, 1793. 1 And we are reminded of that dark back- 
ground of war, which we are so tempted to lose 
sight of in its more dazzling details, in the long list 
of subscriptions for the relief of the "widows and 
children of seamen or soldiers who may die or be 
killed in his Majesty's service during the present 
war," which was headed by the Corporation with a 
donation of fifty guineas. 2 

An agreeable variation of these sadder features 
of Oxford history is afforded in the account of the 
Duke of Portland's inauguration after his election 
to the office of Chancellor of the University, vacated 
by the death of Lord North. After attending at a 
grand choral service at St. Mary's, whose " galleries 
were occupied by a brilliant assemblage of ladies," 
the new Chancellor dined with the governors of the 
Radcliffe at a public ordinary in the Town Hall, and 
heard Mrs. Billington sing at Dr. Hayes' concert in 
the evening. On the next morning he proceeded 
to the Theatre, and conferred degrees on the Bishop 
of Dromore better known to lovers of English 
literature as the collector of The Eeliques of dindent 
English Poetry, the amiable and accomplished Dr. 
Percy; on the Duke of Devonshire, Lords Bute, 
Spencer, and George Cavendish ; on the Eight Hon. 
William Wyndham, and a crowd of other noblemen 
and statesmen. The same ceremonies on the two 


following days, the graver features of the scene being 
relieved by the balls and promenades of the evening, 
and the whole being brought to a close by a grand 
performance of the Messiah in the Theatre. 1 

The employment of the Oxfordshire regiment of 
Militia (July 1793) in escorting a thousand French 
prisoners from Southampton to Salisbury, 2 plunges 
us at once into the bustle of the great Revolutionary 
War which ended in 1815, and in November of the 
same year the Council is voting twenty guineas 
towards the use of the soldiers under the command 
of the Duke of York, at that time campaigning in 
Flanders; 3 and in April 1794 a sum of 300 was 
voted by the Corporation in aid of the subscription 
for internal defence, in addition to the individual 
contributions of each of its members. The money 
was applied towards the raising of two troops of 
Fencible Cavalry in the county to serve during 
the war, which were soon organized under Major 
Parker and Captain Auriel, and marched off into 
Northamptonshire. 4 In the midst of these prepara- 
tions came the news of the great naval victory 
of Lord Howe, which was celebrated by a grand 
illumination. The front of Queen's, its parapet, and 
cupola, were covered with lights, bands of music 
played loyal airs, and the bells rang throughout the 
day. The streets were crowded until midnight. 5 
Admiral Bowyer, one of the heroes of the day, on 
his return to his seat at Eadley, was escorted by 
the townsmen of Abingdon in blue ribbons and 


cockades, and entertained by the gentry of the 
neighbourhood. 1 The ebullitions of popular loyalty 
were, however, sometimes more ardent than wise, 
for in the course of this year we find the Dissenting 
Minister of Oxford violently assaulted at Woodstock 
by a party of recruits " under a mistaken opinion of 
Mr. H., the minister's, political character." 2 

With war came war-prices and starvation. Every 
winter had been accompanied by voluntary subscrip- 
tions for the relief of the indigent poor, but these 
attempts produced scarcely any impression on the 
general distress. Yet the committee could state 
that " considerably more than four thousand persons 
have been regularly supplied with bread, twice in 
the week, at little more than half-price, for the space 
of eleven weeks," while the Corporation ordered all 
necessitous persons to be supplied with the best 
coals at fourteenpence per hundred, and the de- 
ficiency to be made good by the City Treasurer, on 
a consumption which in less than five months 
amounted to six hundred tons. 3 What a boon this 
was we see from the joy with which the arrival of a 
canal boat, in the opening of March, was welcomed. 
The canal had been closed by a frost for more than 
ten weeks ; coals had been brought by land carriage 
from Birmingham, and sold at four shillings a 
hundred. 4 The county magistrates decided that for 
a man arid his wife, wages to the amount of at least 
six shillings a week were necessary, adding one shilling 
for every additional child, and that where the family 


earnings were less, the overseer should mate up the 
deficiency. 1 The scarcity did not cease with the 
winter, and the usual amount of folly in the shape 
of proposals for its relief began to crop up. The 
farmers around Burford resolved "to sell their corn 
only to mealmen and bakers who shall consume the 
same at or near home, and not to any jobber, for 
they have found," adds the editor, "that persons of 
this description buy up various sorts of grain, and 
send it by different canals out of the country. The 
above laudable resolution, if universally adopted, 
will put an effectual stop to these proceedings." 2 
Such nonsense as this was not confined to farmers. 
Lord Dudley informed his tenants " that if they do 
not sell their wheat at what may be deemed a fair 
and reasonable price, he will, according as they sell 
exorbitantly, advance their rents at Michaelmas, and 
give the sum arising from such advance to the poor." 3 
It is scarcely possible to conceive that the Wealth 
of Nations had been many years in existence, and 
that Adam Smith's pupil, William Pitt, was the first 
minister of Great Britain. The Duke of Marlborough 
and Lord Harcourt showed greater sense in the 
example which they set of ploughing up a great part 
of their parks to raise grain.* The Vice-Chancellor 
and Heads of Houses unanimously agreed to " reduce 
the consumption of wheat in their own families by at 
least one-third of the usual quantity, and to recom- 
mend the same to their respective societies." 5 In this 
they did but follow the example of the Privy Council, 


who had entered into a similar agreement to consume 
only bread with a mixture of one-third of barley-flour. 
As might be expected, these quixotic attempts pro- 
duced no great impression, and, in July 1795, a 
general subscription is again set on foot for the 
relief of the poor, and the reduction of the price of 
bread in their case to fourteenpence the half-peck, 
which the corporation headed by a donation of one 
hundred guineas. 1 Sufferings such as these were 
hardly compensated by great victories like that at 
Camperdown, for which we find Oxford busy in a 
general thanksgiving in December 1797, sermons 
being " preached before the University by the Eev. 
Dr. Collinson, Provost of Queen's College ; and before 
the Corporation by the Eev. William Green, A.M., of 
Magdalen Hall." 2 

We have passed over in this hasty sketch of 
Oxford, at the close of the last century, some 
events of miscellaneous interest, such as the great 
eclipse which was very visible here in September 
1793, 3 and a curious tornado, which visited the city in 
the beginning of 1792.* " A meeting of the Bursars," 
held in 1793, "for the purpose of taking into con- 
sideration the late advance of two shillings per 
barrel laid on beer by the Oxford brewers/' in which 
they invite "proposals from such brewers in the 
country as may be inclined to serve the different 
colleges," is worth mentioning in these days of 
"strikes." 5 A trial of great importance for the trade of 
Oxford was that of the Corporation against William 


Taman, who, being matriculated and privileged as a 
barber, had tried a variety of other occupations, as a 
tallow-chandler, earthenware man, and cutler. The 
University contended that his privilege from matricu- 
lation entitled him to the exercise of all or any of 
these in addition to his tonsorial profession. The 
City relied on charters, etc., to prove that the 
privilege was limited to that particular trade of 
barber, which he was entitled to exercise as a 
matriculated person. The jury, with the approbation 
of Heath, the presiding judge, gave their verdict, 
without hesitation, in favour of the City. 1 A serious 
mutiny of the Oxfordshire Militia, stationed, in 1795, 
at Bletchingdon, must have excited a painful interest 
in the county. It was a rough attempt to effect what 
their superiors were just as clumsily attempting a 
reduction in prices. They cleared the butchers' stalls 
of their contents, selling them at fourpence a pound ; 
insisted on a farmer's selling wheat at 12 a load, 
and carried off flour to the amount of 5000, to 
sell at a "fair price" at Lewes market next day. 
For the night they encamped at Newhaven, where 
they were surrounded and made prisoners by the 
Lancashire Fencibles, who were in the neighbour- 
hood, but their comrades in barracks, sallying out to 
effect their rescue, boldly attacked a troop of Horse 
Artillery which disputed their progress, and were 
not dispersed without bloodshed. Heavy punish- 
ments were inflicted, and four ringleaders shot for 
this crime. 2 


"IMAGINATION," said the Greeks of old, "is the 
daughter of memory." To those who have accom- 
panied us through the series of papers, of which 
this forms the conclusion, the converse may appear 
equally true. Our memory of the past must indeed 
be ever tinged deeply with Imagination. We look 
back on a past century as the traveller looks back 
on a distant landscape, where the grey of evening 
is blotting out one by one the coarser features of 
the scene, the miry roads, the squalid huts, the 
filthy peasantry, and leaving but the dark masses of 
long colonnades of elms, or the distant spires and 
pinnacles standing out sharp and black against the 
amber sky. As we, too, look back on the century 
which we have been sketching, we see how its 
fouler and more degrading features have passed 
away from men's memories ; how its finer and more 
romantic points have been magnified through the 
haze of our fancy, till we have summed up and 
consecrated all under the name of " The G-ood Old 
Times." There would be little harm in all this, if, 


in doing justice to the past, we did not often do less 
than justice to the present. Comparisons are pro- 
verbially odious; but the comparisons which some 
of the older among us are so fond of instituting be- 
tween the present and the past are the most odious, 
because they are the most erroneous of all It has 
been the fate of the author of these papers to have 
to strip away much of the romance that enshrouded 
the deformity of the Last Century ; to lay bare its 
low mean aims, its grossness, its utter want of moral 
tone or energy, and it was impossible to do so with- 
out provoking some comparison with the present 
without the expression of a firm conviction that the 
advance from the eighteenth to the nineteenth century 
has indeed been a passing from darkness into light 
a crossing of the great gulf, which we alluded to in 
our first paper, as severing the two most dissimilar 
seras of our history. 

It is not without reason that " we boast," as old 
Homer sang long ago, " to be far better men than 
our forefathers." Low as, in the opinion of some, 
the standard of our politics has sunk, it would be 
hard to wring a consent, even from the lowest of 
Oxford pot-wallopers, to the unblushing sale of the 
civic representation in Parliament. The stoutest of 
reactionaries would stand aghast at a public repri- 
mand delivered at the bar of the House to civic 
functionaries guilty, on their own confession, of open 
and flagrant corruption, at a second bargain con- 
cluded even within the walls of Newgate, at the 


eighty open public-houses, and the cold collation to 
the members of the Corporation, which celebrated 
the sale of the seat to the Duke of Marlborough. 
Those who still profess to regret the changes effected 
by the Municipal Reform Act can scarcely regret 
changes which, at any rate, abolished the bribery, the 
gin-bottles, the unscrupulous employment of influence 
which made a civic election a bye-word. The fellows 
of St. John's no longer think it a nocturnal enjoy- 
ment to sally forth for a bottle at the neighbouring 
alehouses. The Three Tuns no longer affords a means 
of convivial pleasure to the dignitaries of All Souls. 
The present Professor of Poetry does not rival his 
predecessor, Warton, in his love for a pot-house ; nor 
is it a common event for noblemen to rise in the 
morning after the whet of a quart of brandy. A 
highwayman, mounted like Dumas, would be as much 
stared at as a mermaid ; we never think of looking 
carefully to our pistols as we take our railway ticket. 
Our prisons are not the scene of the foulest excesses, 
and the most horrible outbreaks ; the pillory is gone 
with the stocks and whipping at the cart's tail. The 
poor, tattered, supperless servitor has almost vanished. 
If the Smart survives, his " smooth unruffled stream " 
has at least to break over the rocks of Examiners and 
Testamurs; even a gentleman -commoner may be 
studious without fear of a taunt of being " a bookish 
fellow" from his tutor. "Toasts" and beauties 
abound, let us hope, still; but Merton Gardens no 
longer catch the whispers of flirtation, or the click of 


Flavia's fan. Baylis and Blenkinsop have disappeared 
with the wigs they so deftly manufactured ; and the 
barber is no longer seen hurrying to college to pre- 
pare the student's peruke for Hall. With the 
barber other trades have sunk into comparative in- 
significance. The Guild of Cordwainers, the Com- 
pany of Tailors, only afford subjects of interest to 
the civic antiquary. If we turn from city to county 
we can scarce recall the farmer of a hundred years 
ago, " fixed fungus-like on his peculiar spot," know- 
ing nothing, caring nothing for improvement of the 
outer world, amid the present bustle of Farmers' 
Clubs and Agricultural Societies. The iron road 
along which we whirl in a day from London to 
Edinburgh has carried us almost beyond the memory 
of the Turnpike of the end of the Last Century, quite 
beyond that of the mud-lane of its opening. 

This age, however, of the Georges was by no 
means an age of inaction. Materially it was an sera 
of gigantic progress. "While the mind and con- 
science of Europe were waiting, as it were, for the 
thunder-burst of the French revolution to wake them 
from their death -sleep, mechanical ingenuity and 
commercial activity were rapidly raising England 
to the position which it holds at this day as the 
manufacturing centre of the world. Little as yet was 
generally known of the laws by which this commerce 
was regulated. Lord Kenyon was charging grand 
juries, and Oxford magistrates were advertising 
against the practices of forestalling and regrating, the 


Court in its anxiety to alleviate a general famine 
could think of no other device but that of ceasing 
to eat puddings and pastry. But heedless of little 
follies like these, the great river was cutting out its 
own channels and spreading fertility in its own way 
around. And it is from this rapid material progress 
of the last century that there is almost as great a 
contrast between itself in its beginning and in its 
close, as between itself as a whole and its successor. 
Nowhere is this contrast more vividly presented 
to us than in the papers of this series. As they 
open Oxford is hurrahing for Dr. Sacheverell, perse- 
cuting Hanoverians, illuminating for the birthday 
of the Pretender, and toasting King James in every 
tavern and coffee-house. The "deep disloyalty" of 
the place is the subject of discussion among the 
Lords, and for the last time in the history of Oxford 
it is occupied by a hostile garrison. A hundred 
years pass, and with them pass all traces of Jacobit- 
ism and "Major-General Pepper's dragoons"; a 
Hanoverian monarch is still on the throne, but to 
whisper a jest upon him is counted a sign of re- 
publicanism. Tom Paine is being burnt in effigy, a 
loyal association is the fashion of the day, and 
crowds throng the streets to huzzah King George 
the Third when he honours with frequent visits 
his loyal city and university. When 1700 opens 
England is thrilling with the glorious news of 
Blenheim, of Ramillies, of Malplaquet; the House 
of Bourbon is the terror of Europe, and a grand 


confederacy is clipping the ambitious wings of the 
Grand Monarque; when it closes the descendant 
of Louis XIV, is a refugee at Hatfield, and another 
great confederacy is on foot for his restoration to 
the throne of the Bourbons. Nor is the contrast 
less in our own internal progress. If 1700 witnessed 
the university's greatest inactivity and degradation, 
1800 saw the first beginnings of that system of 
examination which led the way to higher and nobler 
intellectual efforts. If religion during the first years 
of the eighteenth century seemed dormant within 
her walls, the middle of the century sent Wesley 
and Whitefield forth to sow the good seed which 
may almost be said to have saved England from 
the fate of her sister countries of the Continent. 
The county was not behind hand. It is the great 
sera of enclosures; commons are disappearing, the 
great range of open country from Banbury to Chip- 
ping-Norton is being parcelled out into fields and 
farms; the value of land is doubling and trebling, 
and yet the farmers find no reason to complain. The 
old race of agriculturists is dying silently away before 
the dawn of a better system of culture ; the close of 
the century sees a new race springing up eager to 
test and adopt the new implements that are to work 
a revolution in their modes of farming, the drill and 
the thrashing mill, the scarifier and the horse-hoe. 
Externally, indeed, there seems little change or pro- 
gress in the city. The corporation is as corrupt in 
the beginning as in the close of this sera, as busy in 


fixing the assize of bread, in prohibiting inoculation, in 
putting down strikes and combinations for wages. 
" Backsword-play " goes on in Gloster-green, and 
cock-fighting at the pit in Holywell. St. Giles's fair 
remains, even far into the next century, the type in 
brutality and excess of St. Bartholomew's. The 
streets ring with the oaths and curses of ruffians who 
cared little for the watchman or the staff of the 
city marshal. But even in amusements signs of a 
gradual amelioration peep forth. Concerts grow 
more and more frequent. Flower shows, shows of 
carnations, trips to Nuneham, trivial as they may 
seem to us, are yet the straws that shew the set of 
the tide of refinement. The building of the Eadcliffe 
Infirmary forms an important sera in the charities of 
Oxford. Meanwhile the whole aspect of the city is 
undergoing a change by the operation of the Improve- 
ment Act of the latter part of the century. A 
market-place is established, the lumbering array of 
signs and penthouse shops are swept away, the streets 
are paved and lighted, the kennel over which Johnson 
stood so long astride, wrapt in meditation, disappears. 
The entrances of the city are widened by the removal 
of the old gates a sweeping measure which we can- 
not but regret while we approve it by the construc- 
tion of the present fine bridges, and by the removal 
of the ruinous blocks of houses which disfigured the 
approaches to them. 

It is a topic on which one would be tempted to 
enlarge in an age when the importance of local and 


sanitary improvements and the connexion of wide 
open streets and free-air circulation with health is 
becoming daily more recognized. But our limits 
"bid us pass on to another topic which may have 
struck, perhaps, the readers of this series. Interest- 
ing books have been written on the boyhood of great 
men ; it was one of the felicities of our subject that 
it introduced us to not a few of England's greatest 
intellects at a time of still greater interest than their 
boyhood, the time of brief rest ere that plunge into 
the life-ocean which some were to buffet so manfully, 
where some were to suffer so terrible a shipwreck. 
We saw the father of the Wesleys, with his allowance 
of five shillings from his friends, copying, running 
errands, teaching, for a livelihood; Foote acting 
Punch through the streets, ridiculing the pedantry 
of Provost Gower, and dashing through Oxford in a 
coach and six greys. Malmesbury met us, the future 
diplomatist, drinking claret and playing whist with 
Eden and Charles Fox; the brilliant though dis- 
cursive writer whom we have so recently lost, De 
Quincey, was there, entering hall with coat buttoned 
to the throat, and gown drawn close about him to 
conceal the rents in his threadbare habiliments; 
Collins was parading about Queen's or Magdalen in 
laced hat and the finery of an exquisite ; a greater 
poet, a still more unhappy man, Shelley, is staining 
his carpet with vitriol or making ducks and drakes 
in the pool below Shotover, or snatching up the 
children whom he met for a kiss. Gibbon paces the 


cloisters of Magdalen in his velvet cap and silk 
gown, sneering at the port-bibbing dons whom he 
mixes with in common-room, and sneered at by them 
in turn as they see him poring over his D'Herbelot ; 
making tours to Bath, to Buckinghamshire, to London; 
and poring over Arabic and bills with the same cynical 
indifference. Tom Warton has strolled with us up 
Headington Hill or round the Cherwell meadows, 
amusing us with his poetry and his puns, his gobbled 
criticisms, his enthusiasm at a fife and a drum. 
Greatest of all we have seen Johnson's gaunt con- 
vulsed form lounging at Pembroke gate, a wit, a 
rebel, a king among his fellows, at once so proud and 
so poor. 

They are gone these men of the last century 
and their age is gone with them. We inherit the 
material wealth it bequeathed to us; its manufac- 
tures and its commerce, its roads, canals, and spinning- 
jennies but the age has gone it has left us nothing 
of itself. There is, as we said at the very outset, a 
great gulf between our aims, our purposes, our 
standards of what is high and excellent, and the 
aims, purposes, standards of the age which we have 
been investigating. The fishermen of the Northern 
Seas believe that seamen sometimes land on what 
seems a great island, and whilst reposing in fancied 
security, the Kraksa 1 for the island is that fabled 
monster sinks and is seen no more. As we turn 
our eyes away from this Eighteenth Century on 
which we have been landing so lately, it seems 


like the Kraksa to sink into the deep sea of 
oblivion we gaze easily beyond to the firm solid 
land the age of Cromwell, of Elizabeth, of the Re- 
formation but the Age of the Georges is vanished 
for ever. 


THERE are few earthly surprises at once so old and 
so pleasant as the surprise with which, after a few 
years' absence from Oxford, one returns to find one- 
self an anachronism. It is not merely that the 
ordinary social changes of life have gone on more 
rapidly there than elsewhere, that a little world 
which renews itself every three or four years presents 
new faces and new voices to us, that, if we seek for 
some enduring element amid the chaos of novelty, 
we are driven to make friends with a veteran scout, or 
to gaze with a sigh of relief on an immortal bedell. 
It is not the faces only, but the whole atmosphere of 
Oxford that has changed. The puns, the sermons, 
the Kewdigates, the heroes of the past are utterly 
forgotten. It is one peculiarity of a place at first 
sight so eminently traditional, that there is no tradi- 
tion; the great boating deeds of Smith, the great 
proctorate of Brown, the wit of Eobinson, the learning 
of Jones, vanish with the generation that knew them. 
We find ourselves in the midst of a world that has no 
past, in which a modern life is for ever ebbing 


and flowing through time-honoured cloisters and 
beneath immemorial elms, where the most 
venerable of living beings is the man in his last 

It is difficult to express the sense of fogyism with 
which one reads the innumerable Oxford jevx d'espnt 
that float down to hall or parsonage as Charlie comes 
home for vacation; such amusing little essays, for 
instance, as these which have just been collected in 
the form of the Oxford Spectator. There is all the old 
fun, the old sense of social ease and brightness and 
freedom, the old medley of work and indolence, of 
jest and earnest, that made Oxford life so picturesque. 
But every form in which this spirit embodied itself is 
changed. We have to begin our Oxford again, as we 
had to begin it when we faced the Vice-Chancellor at 
our matriculation. All is new, all is strange to us, 
and we are plunged once more into the "Freshman's 
Dream " which has been so ingeniously sketched by a 
writer in these essays : 

I dreamed that I was wandering at midnight in the 
Christ-church meadows. The sun was shining, and all 
the trees bore the similitude of the colossal heads which 
form the new decoration of the Theatre. I was hasten- 
ing to IfSey to attend a lecture for which I was in no 
measure prepared. One tree gravely requested me to 
subscribe to the Botanical Gardens, while another asked 
me with great affability to wine. Then the ground 
beneath my feet turned suddenly to cinders, and I was 
exhorted to feel my stretcher, because it was the last lap. 
I rose in the air, and found myself on my feet at the 


Union, unable to speak ; I sat down, and was straightway 
dining in Hall without cap or gown, where my old school- 
master glared at me from a frame upon the wall Thea 
came Alcestis, whose face was still that of the College 
Porter. With one hand she solved a quadratic equation, 
and with the other she whispered in tones of silvery 
sweetness, " the Proctor's compliments, sir, and are you a 
member of the University ? " 1 

It is the contrast of this social novelty with the 
historic and unchanging aspect of the place, of its real 
life and its ideal life, which gives such a strange 
charm to Oxford. The future Antony-a-Wood who 
sets himself to describe the true and not the merely 
official history of Alma Mater will find himself face 
to face with the most picturesque, because the most 
rapidly changing, panorama in the world. Without 
stirring the dust of the middle ages he will recall the 
martial tramp of the academical Cavalier as he 
mustered in Broken Heyes or swept out with Rupert 
to the fight at Chalgrove Field, the jests of the 
sturdy Jacobites who ogled the Toasts in Merton 
Gardens or pelted the soldiers of King George, the 
earliest Methodists fasting and praying beneath the 
eyes of the "pretty fellows," the tap of the martial 
drum that could alone draw Professor Warton from 
his alehouse, the gaunt figure of Whately stalking 
round the meadow, the geological cavalcade behind 
Buckland, the sudden adoption of tail-coats and the 
most courteous of droops by which Oxford signalized 
its worship of Newman and the origin of the new 


" Movement," the debates at the Union, the boats 
on the river, the delights of the Long. What will 
strike him most, perhaps, in the Oxford of to-day is 
the disappearance of the Don. Oxford is Young 
Oxford. The queer figures, strange compounds of 
shyness and hauteur, who formed the still background 
to all the movement and variety of academical life, 
have faded away into quiet parsonages. With them 
Oxford has lost its last relic of continuity, the last 
bond that linked its generations together, the last 
memorials of a tradition of discipline. It has not 
lost sweetness in them or light, but it certainly has 
lost individuality. They were not as other men are. 
They had in fact a deep, quiet contempt for other 
men. Oxford was their world, and beyond Oxford 
lay only waste wide regions of shallowness and 
inaccuracy. They were often men of keen humour, 
of humour keen enough at any rate to see and to 
mock at the mere pretences of "the world of 
progress " around them. Their delight was to take a 
" progressive idea" and to roast it over the common- 
room fire. They had their poetry; for the place 
itself, and the reverence they felt for it, filled them 
with a quiet sense of the beautiful ; and this refine- 
ment and this humour both saved them from bowing 
before the vulgar gods of the world without. They 
did not care much for money ; they saw their con- 
temporaries struggling for it, and lingered on 
content with their quiet rooms and four hundred a 
year. They cared very little for fame, at least the 


fame that lives in the light of Mudie's countenance, 
although most of them had a great dream-work on 
hand, of which not a chapter was ever written. "What 
they did care for was strangely blended of the 
venerable and the ridiculous, for their real love of 
learning was mingled with a pedantry both of mind 
and of life, and a feminine rigour over the little 
observances of society and discipline. Such as they 
were, however, Young Oxford has no type of 
existence to show so picturesque, so individual. 
Its one really new product is the "D. F. Niente, 
Esq.," whom the essayists of the Spectator set before 
us in the various stages of his academical career. 

wears the form of a slim and graceful youth, well dressed 
and highly perfumed ; his voice is soft, and his manners 
attractive, if perhaps a trifle artificial. First you ask his 
name, and admire him at a distance for a week ; then 
you meet him in company, and are in a moment his 
willing captive. He soon allures you to his lair, a spot 
strewn with every elegance of luxury and art, with albums 
full of fair faces or amusing "sketches," with graceful 
trifles from foreign lands, and little notes from all the 
ladies in Oxford. There he feeds you with the most 
delicate viands, over which you linger like them of old 
who could not leave the lotus-beds ; then, before this 
enjoyment begins to pall, he leads you forth, and slowly 
up and down the High Street, through a long delightful 
afternoon, till, before the bell of your College rings for 
dinner, you are ensnared. Struggle as you will, you 
cannot get free. Henceforth you will act in private 
theatricals, and sleep till mid-day ; you will never row or 


run again ; you will be often photographed ; in short, as 
your captor is so will you be. 1 

No doubt there is a more serious side to Young 
Oxford. If dons have fled before this advent of 
" shooting stars," of whist, of athletics, of art, before 
the endless jangle of pianos and the rattle of billiard- 
balls, some of the better elements of the world with- 
out have come in. Lepidus, as these essayists paint 
him, may be " dainty, delicate, delightful, superficial"; 
we may get a little sick of his raptures over De 
Musset, his egotistical philosophy, his art gossip, the 
pretentious little essay which he polishes in a couple 
of years till it is too sparkling to be readable, his 
feminine fussiness over the last Liberal statute, his 
fleers at "the barbarians," his patronage of goodness 
and nobleness " from an aesthetic point of view " ; 
but with all his affectation Lepidus is quietly 
changing this old world into a new. If Oxford is to 
educate Englishmen, and not merely to drill them, to 
act as an intellectual, and not merely as a social force, 
it is time that she knew something and taught some- 
thing of Turner and Alfred de Musset. Ten years 
ago we should have found no Oxford man daring 
enough to talk through a whole paper, as one of these 
gentlemen does, about the drawings in the Taylor 
buildings, and to talk with a certain amount of 
knowledge and good sense. Ten years ago it would 
have been hazardous in a mere author of fugitive 
papers to suppose such an interest in literature, in the 


humours of Charles Lamb, in the style of Addison, as 
these papers in their very form take for granted. 
And the result of this extension of Oxford sympathies 
is apparent, we think, in a new geniality and fairness 
of tone. Oxford has given much in the way of 
impulse, of energy, to England, but her impulse has 
been narrow, and her energy has been hard. Who 
does not recall the bitter, fighting, intolerant temper 
that marred much that was lofty and beautiful in the 
earlier Oxford movement ; the blind party-spirit, the 
cliqueishness, the self-sufficiency that has so often 
disenchanted men of Oxford Liberalism? To men 
living in a little world, and never looking outside it, 
mole-hills become mountains, and to Oxford men 
Headington Hill was an Alp. We can forgive much 
art-gossip, much prattle over Sainte-Beuve, if it takes 
men out into the larger world, where they may gain 
a sense of proportion, and add a little sweetness to 
their light. Their contact with the actual life around 
them, however trivial may be the forms it takes, 
their sympathy with the actual hopes and aims of men 
at large, may help Oxford in the days that are to 
come. For whatever may be the changes that are 
impending, it is plain that changes must be, and that 
they will be changes that will set our academical 
education in a far closer and more practical relation 
to the general instruction of the country than its 
present system and tradition allows. Whether 
Oxford can adapt herself to new national require- 
ments will depend not so much on new "Liberal 


statutes" as on the development of a temper in 
harmony with the temper of that " world without " 
which she has so long despised. And it is because of 
the promise of such a development, a promise none 
the less significant that its form is so light and 
unpretending, that we have noticed these little pages 
of the Oxford Spectator. 


COMMEMORATION is Oxford in masquerade, and the 
mob of country visitors who celebrate its carnivals of 
balls and prize essays during the present week are 
simply looking on Hamlet with the part of Hamlet 
left out. Oxford is in Pall Mall, or up the Rhine, or 
scaling the Matterhorn, or doing the Caucasus, and 
it has left only its tail behind it. Chancellors and 
beadles and doctors of civil law, and a few belated 
undergraduates groaning against fate and the caprice 
of pretty cousins, form indeed a tail such as no other 
place can boast. Some faint shadow of the real life 
which has flitted away lingers in the grand incon- 
gruities which remain Abyssinian heroes robed in 
literary scarlet, degrees conferred by the suffrage of 
virgins in pink bonnets and blue, a great academical 
ceremony drowned in an atmosphere of Aristophanean 
chaf The shadow of Oxford is better than the 
substance of other places, no doubt; but we can 
hardly wonder that the pretty cousin goes home 
again as wise as she came. She has failed to see 
Oxford, as Leicester failed to see the Spanish fleet, 


"because it was not in sight." It is the season, not 
the method of her inquiry, which is at fault. The 
one place to study Oxford in is Oxford herself; a 
walk down the High tells more of its actual life than 
all the books and treatises in the world. Nowhere 
does one get less help from sentiment or speculation ; 
nowhere can one trust so implicitly to the eye and 
ear. The charm of the place lies in a single differ- 
ence from the world without it, and that difference is 
betrayed in almost ostentatious individualities of 
speech, of manner, of costume. It is natural enough 
for the pretty cousin, as she peeps into Oriel quad or 
wanders round Magdalen cloister, to associate Oxford 
with the speculations it has suggested or the traditions 
to which it seems to cling. It is hard not to shrink 
with a little awe before the long procession of Doctors 
and Heads which floods with a gorgeous river of 
colour the middle aisle of St. Mary's. But Oxford is 
in truth neither historic nor theological nor aca- 
demical It is simply young. The first impression 
one receives is the true one ; half the faces one meets 
are the faces of boys ; everywhere there is the freedom, 
the geniality, the noise of a big school. 

There is the indolence and the lawlessness too. 
The true life of Oxford begins after luncheon. It 
lounges about the quad in the sunshine of noon. It 
plays bowls on the smooth sward of St. John's, or 
does a little lazy archery beneath the elms of New 
College. It paddles down to Sandford, or moors its 
indolent punt among the water-lilies of Cherwell. 


It seeks comfort in Symonds's stables, and discusses 
with ostler-pundits the odds for the Oaks. Its cricket 
drag rattles down High on its way to Bullingdon, its 
fours drift down the river and receive comfort and 
counsel from the bank. Night brings the magnilo- 
quence of the Union, Jones's first speech, and 
Eobinson's smashing reply. Choral and quartet 
parties burst forth on the evening stillness of the 
quads. Brown settles himself in the coziest of sofas 
for an hour with his French novel ; Smith wends his 
way to the little room in the corner, where the 
faithful gather to celebrate the mysteries of whist. 
It is a Me possibly without grandeur or high aims, 
hardly perhaps the ideal life of a great university 
but a life at any rate free and genial and young. It 
is difficult, of course, to bring young Oxford into any 
very definite relation with the traditional Oxford 
which surrounds him. His one relation is that of 
picturesque contrast. One turns into the gloomy 
quad of S. Leoline's, and every window and drop- 
stone of the blackened walls is etched out with gay 
lines of flowers. It is in the same gay, flower-like 
spirit that young Oxford etches out the grim, dark 
outlines of the Oxford of centuries ago. There is a 
certain grace even in the revolt which flung aside 
academic costume and permitted dress to attain its 
highest pitch of negligence in the one spot where it 
is still regulated by statute. A long line of founders 
and benefactors look down on the results of their 
munificence in the group of boyish strollers got up in 


boating flannels and red comforters, or gracefully 
lounging beneath mediaeval porches in the abmdon of 
a wide-awake and a pea-jacket. It is in vain that 
Heads lecture and tutors preach, and proctors insist 
on a morning call and a statutory fine. The whole 
thing melts in an atmosphere of laughter and fun. 
The Head whom nobody cares for, the sermons that 
nobody goes to, the halls that fade away into boating 
suppers, the tutors that submit to a terminal screw- 
ing-in, the proctor who stifles his smile as he pockets 
the half-crown, dissolve into unreal beings beneath 
the jests of young Oxford. "We dress this jeunesse 
dorfa in the philosophic toga and set it before ex- 
aminers in bands and white tie, but it is impossible 
to make it believe in statutes or testamurs. The 
young barbarian believes that he has been sent to 
these venerable cloisters to play. The scene at Com- 
memoration, the chaff which breaks upon the Latin 
poem, the interruptions of the portly orator, the roar 
of laughter which greets the Vice-Chancellor's appeal 
for a little gravity in the proceedings, convey simply 
the undergraduate's impression that everything which 
aims at not being play is a joke. 

Oxford is young, and oddly enough it is this 
peculiar characteristic of the place which has been 
especially intensified by modern reforms. The old 
Don of port and prejudice has disappeared. The 
new teachers are hardly older than the boys they 
teach. The country parson who brings up his son 
for matriculation stares at the beardless Vice-President, 


at the gay group of unwhiskered young Fellows round 
the High Table, "who are tossing from one to another 
the grave titles of Tutor and Dean. The chaff, the 
vivacity of common room, strike him as dumb as if 
he had looked in casually upon Convocation and 
caught bishops playing high jinks. And no doubt 
among the actors themselves there is a slight sense 
of unreality. Graduate and undergraduate hardly 
meet without a smile; the tutor displays somewhat 
defiantly a shade of his old interest in the cricket- 
score ; it is difficult to bring home to the friends of 
last term the impropriety of bonneting the Dean. 
The Dean himself longs sometimes for a grey hair or 
two when it is necessary to impress on young Oxford 
the principles of decorum and self-respect. Still on 
the whole the experiment is a success. There is a 
great deal more unity and good-feeling about the 
place than could possibly exist when a gulf of twenty 
years separated governors and governed. Discipline 
is quite as efficiently maintained by friendly appeals 
to men's good sense as by the puerile severity of 
college meetings, and religion can hardly be said to 
have suffered from the abolition of compulsory 
chapels. The place in fact has quietly changed from 
a school into a university, and a discipline originally 
framed for boys of fifteen, and which had become an 
anachronism with men of twenty, has at last been 
adapted to the altered circumstances of the time. 
Nor has the change been unfavourable to the Don 
himself. No doubt he is young ; young, for instance, 


in dandyism and a tendency to soft living, a youthful 
taste for sybarite little dinners in common room, a 
weakness in the way of flirtation, a certain poetic 
effervescence, a juvenile drift towards laborious 
pleasantry and elephantine jest. His muscular energy 
has a youthful rawness about it; he is proud of 
doing Constantinople in the four weeks of an Easter 
vacation, he revels in the Alpine peaks of the Long. 
Intellectually he has a boy's want of balance, a wide, 
unconscious ignorance, which satisfies itself easily 
with parrot-like phrases and a general reliance on 
cram ; a juvenile narrowness of mental range, and an 
absolute blindness to the greater lines along which 
human knowledge is destined to advance. He is 
totally ignorant of history in one of the most historic 
cities of the world. He knows nothing of science, 
though he votes thousands in a lordly way towards 
its support from the University chest. He is young 
in the intensity of his worships, in the precocity of 
his criticism. Before Balliol he falls down, like 
Sisera, dead. German has a strange power over him, 
as a language in which all human science is summed 
up. He contemptuously refers the Professor of 
History to a Leipzig treatise, which turns out to be a 
summary of Hallam, and bursts upon the Physio- 
logical Reader with a scientific Eureka, which proves 
to be a translation of Darwin. He has, like most 
people of his years, a tendency to epigram, an intoler- 
ance of bores and boredom, a turn for paradox. His 
youth breaks out in defiant heterodoxies and ortho- 

AS IT IS 263 

doxies, in a fiery party-spirit, in a passionate loyalty 
to academical wire-pullers, in an abhorrence of 
" caves " and moderation, in a preference for strict 
party votes. He moves heaven and earth to frustrate 
the reactionary intrigues which aimed at substituting 
a comma for a semicolon in the statute on blunder- 
busses. He has the last news from the lobby about 
the Tests Bill, and shakes his head distrustfully over 
the Solicitor-General But with all this he is honest 
and hard-working. The number of books turned 
out from Oxford just now is probably greater than at 
any time since the years of the Newmania, and the 
intellectual energy which produces them is far wider 
in temper and actual extent of interest than the 
energy of 1840. The Academy is a good index to 
the nature of Oxford activity a little too impatient 
of vulgarity, too contemptuous of fine writing, 
aiming too passionately perhaps at thoroughness and 
originality, but still genuine and useful so far as it 
goes. In a word, the young Don is a little priggish, 
as young people are apt to be. But he is for the 
most part eminently genial and good-humoured. His 
gaiety and vivacity give life and colour to the place. 
People never meet each other without a good story or 
a piquant little jest. Nowhere are differences so 
wide or so keenly expressed, but nowhere do they 
tell less upon the grace and courtesy of social con- 
verse. The philosophers who have been rending one 
another in pamphlets and on platforms are in common 
room the best friends in the world. 


It is curious to watch the influence of the young 
Don upon the world into which he is thrown. On 
the place itself it tells rapidly, because it is a place 
without a tradition, without a past. No place lives 
so absolutely in the present, and nowhere is the 
present so short. The " old resident," who was the 
one chain that linked the generations together, is 
quietly drifting away. If he stays, the atmosphere 
of youth around him turns Oxford into a Medea's 
kettle. He prides himself on being younger than the 
youngest. He cracks jokes, he trots out his little 
anecdotes, he is the life of the common room, he is 
fatal on the croquet-ground. It is on the croquet- 
ground that the new social aspects which young 
Oxford has introduced can be best studied. Beyond 
the classic fields of St. Giles stretches the land 
of Professors and Professors' wives, hundreds of 
mediaeval little villas where learned young ladies 
invite young Oxford to early tea. The old celibate 
spirit has vanished before this invasion of the vestals. 
There is a curious action and reaction; the young 
tutor becomes a shade over-festive, the maiden some- 
times a shade over-blue. She is generally Liberal, 
learned in University politics, divided in her affec- 
tions between boating-men and first classmen, cautious 
not to get entangled with penniless barristers, and 
secretly dreaming of blissful union with a "tuft." 
Her tea is a little weak, but she is very strong in 
croquet, and strongest of all in a chat beneath the 
willows. Grave "Heads" wield the mallet for her, 


and grave Professors vary their lectures with pretty 
little stories which are rewarded with her smiles. 
She mourns over the scarcity of balls and at the 
perpetual monotony of musical evenings. But she 
quickens into new life at the advent of Summer Term. 
There are the Art Lectures to begin with, and art is 
always pleasant to dabble in. What can be more 
delightful than the Master of St. Simon's and the* 
charming little sketches he leaves on the blotting- 
book at every delegate's meeting? What more 
entrancing than the new Art-Professor, and the 
wonderful fireworks which throw their magical light 
over every subject on earth but the subject of his 
chair 1 Quiet art-students there have been in Oxford 
for a long time ; its art-circle is one of the most real 
and worthy results of the life of young Oxford ; but 
the Vestal of the Parks votes their talk a bore, and 
hurries off to the Taylor to see a great genius crown 
itself with foolscap and burn the Church Catechism 
in effigy before the nose of the Vice-Chancellor. But 
the Vestal is only one instance of the wider world 
into which young Oxford plunges. The great am- 
bition of the modern Don is to turn Oxford into a 
suburb of town. The non-resident Fellow forms the 
link between society and Alma Mater. Troops of 
lions and lionesses, poetesses and novelists, Comtists 
and Cardinals, flutter down on the Saturday, to 
return on Monday morn. Sunday is spent in 
"academical regeneration," in breakfasts and boating, 
barges to Nuneham and breaks to Woodstock, lioniz- 


ing, flirting, chatting, dining. In this way Oxford is 
"saturated with modern thought." So at least 
thinks young Oxford, as he rests from his flirtations, 
and turns back with a sigh to the old-fashioned 


P. 27. l It lias been thought best to alter nothing in 
the wording of the following papers; the expressions "this 
century," "present century," "last century" have therefore 
been left as they originally stood. The reader mil under- 
stand that, as these papers were written in 1859, "the last 
century" stands throughout for the eighteenth, and "the 
present century " for the nineteenth century. 

P. 29.- 1 The large shop in the High Street occupied by 
the late Mr. "Wyatt (printseller) was formerly the well-known 
"Tom's " coffee-house. The front part was the general room, 
but the small back room was the sanctum of dons, and Mr. 
Wyatt used to point out the Chippendale chairs which had 
been there more than a century, and tell how the room was 
always known as "The House of Lords," set apart for men 
like Tom Warton or Dr. Johnson, The chairs had been sat 
on by many a learned talker, while he and his listeners enjoyed 
their pipes and coffee. J. K. 

P. 30. i Lord Bathurst to Swift, June 30, 1730. Swift's 
Works, ed. Scott, 1824, vol. xvii. pp. 304-5. 

2 " The man of God doubted not but that very soon Oxford 
would be sought for, even in Oxford." Amherst, Terras F^l^us, 
No. 5. "Oxonium quceras in Oxonio." U. No. 44. 

P. 31. l Wood's Autobiography, a. 1650. 
2 Aubrey, Lives of Eminent Men (published with Letters 
written by Eminent Persons, 2 vols. 1813), vol. ii. p. 198; 


Clark's edition (1898), vol. ii. p. 10. It should be noted that 
"this city" in the text means London. 
3 Oxford Sausage (1764). 

P. 32. 1 Jackson's Oxford Journal, April 14, 1759. 
2 Ib. April 21, 1759. 

P. 33. I This reference has not been identified. For the 
gentleman commoner see prologue to Colman's Oxonian in 

P. 34. 1 Zach. Conrad von TJffenbach, who visited Oxford 
in 1710, relates that the Protobibliothecarius of the Bodleian, 
" Bookseller " Hudson, left the making of the new catalogue 
to the Eypobibliothecarii, Master Crab and Master Hearne. 
"This Hearne is a man of 30 year, a poor starveling mean 
little creature, yet diligent withal and of good scholarship. 
He is only keeper (Beschhesser) of the Library, and shows the 
Anatomy Camera, wherefore he is very eager for the fee. He 
has not much from the Library, and as he assured me, only 
10." Uffenbach's Itinerary (1754), iii. 158, quoted in 
Wordsworth's University Society, p. 21, note 2. The German 
words represented by "a poor starveling, mean little creature " 
are sehr unansehnlich. 

3 Dr. Bouth of Magdalen College used to tell in 1848 
(being then in his ninety- third year) how he " well remembered 
the time when every academic of any fashion resorted to the 
coffee-house during the afternoon, ' Tom's,' nearly opposite the 
present market, being frequented by the most gay and ex- 
pensive ; 'Horseman's,' also in the High Street, nearly 
opposite the house of the Principal of Brasenose, received the 
members of Merton, All Souls', Corpus and Oriel ; 'Harper's,' 
the corner house of the lane leading to Edmund Hall, those of 
Queen's and Magdalen; 'Bagg's,' the stone house (built out 
of the surplus materials from Blenheim by Sir John Vanbrugh), 
at the corner of Holywell, facing the King's Arms, used 
by New College, Hertford and "Wadham ; and 'Malbon's,' a 
diminutive tenement some feet below the present street, at 
the north-east corner of the Turl, was filled from Trinity, and 
by the members of the neighbouring colleges." Wordsworth's 
University oriety t p. 145, 

NOTES 269 

P. 35. 1 "Last week the bp. of Winchester sent half a 
buck to Magd. Coll., Oxford (the president himself 
being absent) for the felloes, and about the same time Queen 
Carolina sent them a whole buck (it being had from Which- 
wood forest), and they eat it on Monday last, September 11, 
going to dinner at one o'clock." Hearne's Diary, Sept. 
14, 1732. 

2 " Whereas the University disputations on Ash Wednesday 
should begin exactly at one o'clock, they did not begin this 
year 'till two or after, which is owing to several colleges 
having altered their hour of dining from eleven to twelve, 
occasioned from people's lying in bed longer than they used to 
do." Ib. Feb. 10, 1721-2. 

8 75. Feb. 27, 1722-3. 

4 See Colman's Jtandom Records, vol. i. p. 274. 

P. 37. l Aubrey, Lives, vol. ii. p. 343. 

2 Ib. pp. 585-86. 

P. 38. 1 Mr. Thomas Allen, of Gloucester Hall (Worcester 
College); see Aubiey's Lwes, vol. ii. pp. 201-3. There is a 
portrait of Allen in the Bodleian picture-gallery. He died at 
about ninety-sis years of age , " a very cheerfull, facetious man, 
and everybody loved his company, and every house on their 
Gaudie-dayes were wont to invite him. He had a great many 
instruments and glasses in his chamber, and his servitor 
thought it for his credit to serve such a master. Allen used, 
every long vacation, to ride into the country to visitt his old 
acquaintance and patrons, to whom his great learning, mixt 
with much sweetness of humour, rendered him very welcome. 
One time being at Home Lacy, in Heiefordshire, at Mr. John 
Scudamore's (grandfather to the Lord Scudamore), he happened 
to leave his watch in the chamber windowe (watches were 
then rarities). The maydes came in to make the bed, and 
hearinge a thing in a case cry Tick, Tick, Tick, presently 
concluded that that was his Devill, and tooke it by the string 
with the tongues, and threw it out of the windowe into the 
mote (to drowne the Devill). It so happened that the string 
hung on a sprig of an elder that grew out of the mote, and 
this confirmed them that 'twas the Devill. So the good old 
gentleman gott his watch again." 


3 Aubrey, Lives, vol. ii. p. 238. 

3 Hearne's Ihary, Aug. 17, 1721. 

4 Whitefield, Short Account of God's Dealings, etc. (1740), 
pp. 14, 18, 19. 

p. 39. i "In Dr. Whitehead's Lives of the Wesleys and in 
the life which is prefixed to the collected edition of Mr. 
Wesley's Works, it is said that Wesley the father was about 
sixteen "when he entered himself at Exeter College. But as 
he was born 'about the year 1662, or, perhaps, a little earlier/ 
he must have been not less than two-and- twenty at that time, 
as the following extracts from the registers of Exeter College 
will prove : * Deposit of Caution Money. Sept. 26, 1684. 
Mro, Hutchins pro Samuele Westley, paup. schol. de Dorchester, 
3/" etc. Southey, Life of Wesley, 3rd ed. (1846), vol. i. 
p. 8, note. 

2 Amherst, Terra "Films, No. 11. 

P. 40. * Aubrey, Lives, vol. ii. p. 238. 

2 Nov. 28, 1754. BoswelTs Life of Johnson, ed. Birkbeck 
Hill, voL i p. 276. 

3 No reference has been found for this. 

P. 41. * Hearne's Diary, Aug. 17, 1721. 

2 Tariffs Edinburgh Magazine, new series, voL ii. p. 374. 

8 Salmon, Present State of the Umversities (1744), p. 423. 

P. 42. x Hearne's Diary, March 4, 1705-6. 
2 J&. July 14, 1708. 

8 The preface to Ockley's History of the Saracens, vol. ii., 
was written in Cambridge gaol. 

4 Nichols, Literary Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 457. 

5 Hearne's Diary, March 4, 1705-6. 

6 Philips, The Splendid SJdlhng (1709). 

P. 43. 1 Warton's Panegyric on Oxford Ale. 

8 Aubrey, Lives, vol. ii. pp. 421-22. 
4 Ib. p. 425. 

P. 44. l Mr. Green himself received a prize at Magdalen 
School from the hands of Dr. Routh, the last man who wore a 
wig in Oxford, who had seen Dr. Johnson stand in the High 

NOTES 271 

Street, lost in thought, with one foot on either side of the 
kennel down the middle of the way, surrounded by a group of 
street -boys, "none daring," as Dr. Kouth used to tell, "to 
interrupt the meditations of the great lexicographer." 

2 Boswell's Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill (1887), vol. i. p. 74. 

3 II. vol. iii. p. 303. 

P. 45. l n. vol. iii. p. 304. 

2 II. vol. i. p. 73. 

P. 47. 1 Amherst, Terra Filius, No. 31. 

2 75. No. 41. 

3 Ib. No. 46. 

4 Ib. No. 31. 
8 Ib. No. 41. 
6 Ib. No. 46. 

P. 48. l Hogg's Life of Shelley (1858), vol. i, p. 66. 

2 "The Lownger," Oxford Sausage, p. 92. 

3 Amherst, Terra Filius, Nos. 30, 46. 

P. 49. * Jackson's Oxford Journal, Sept. 27, 1755. 

2 Amherst, Terra Filius, No. 46. 

3 Whitefield, Short Account, p. 39. 

P. 50. x Amherst, Terra MUus, No. 46. 

2 "Uffenbach (Reisen, iii. 171) thus describes Paradise 
Garden : * This is hard by an end of the town near a tavern 
which is in connexion with it, and at the back of which, on 
the water, are countless little boxes partitioned by hedges, 
where the Fellows drink in summer.' . , . This pleasaunce 
appears in the map of T. Nealo and R. Agas (1566-78), en- 
graved by Loggan a century later, as ' Paradise ' ; and in 
Loggan's own (1675) as 'Paradise Garden' at the bend of 
the river to the south of the castle. ' Paradise Walks ' is the 
scene of the three first acts of The Humows of Oxford, a play 
by James Miller of Wadham (1703 ; d. 1744)." Wordsworth, 
University Society, pp. 365, 366. The garden had belonged 
to the Grey Friars. Oxford Historical Society's Publications, 
vol. xvii. pp. 395-6. Its name is preserved in the present 
Paradise Square and Paradise Street. 

3 "Thus I tope all the night, as I trifle all day." "The 
Lownger," Oxford Sausage, p. 93. 


P. 51. l Earle, MicrocosnwgrapUe (1628), c. 25. 

2 Amherst, Terras Filius, No. 9. 

P. 52. I Gibbon's Autobiography (1869), pp 23, 29. 

p, 53. i Dianes aiid correspondence of the first Earl of 
Malifiesbuiy (1844), vol. i., introductory memoir, p. ix. 

P. 54. x Quarterly Review, Sept. 1854, p. 492. 

p. 55. i Twit's Edhiburgh Magazine, new series, vol. li. 
(1835), p. 79. 

P. 57. a Amherst, JfcrwB .WZfow, No. 19. 

2 J&. No. 28. 

3 In the life of Dr. Eettle of Trinity, the builder of Kettle 
Hall (Aubrey's Lives, ii. 417-430), the story is told of his 
rebuke to Lady Isabella Thynne (who "lay" at Balliol) and 
her friend Mrs. Fenshawe, who "would have a frolick to 
make a visitt to the President. " l ' 'Tis probable this venerable 
Dr. might have lived some years longer, and finisht his 
centmy, had not these civill warres come on ; which much 
grieved Him, that was wont to be absolute in the colledge, to 
be affionted and disrespected by rude soldiers. I remember, 
being at the Khetorique lecture in the hall, a foot-soldier came 
in and brake his hower-glasse " "The dissoluteness of the 
times, as I have sayd, grieving the good old Doctor, his dayes 
were shortned, and dyed. . . . Anno Dni. 164-, and was 
buried at Grarsington." 

P. 58. * "On Miss Polly Foote's unexpected arrival at 
Oxford, 1758." Oxford Sausage, pp. 101-3. 

2 The meaning and derivation of High Borlace are not 
known. Wordsworth (Univ. JSoc. pp. 153-4) says: "Of 
clubs at Oxford (in addition to the Constitution and TJie 
Club, with others which I have already mentioned), there 
were the Banterers (1678) ... the Free Cynics (1734), ( a 
kind of philosophical club who have a set of symbolical words 
and grimaces unintelligible to any but those of their own 
Society/ There was also the 'High Borlace,' a Tory Club 
which had a convivial meeting held annually at the Bang's 
Head Tavern in Oxford on the 18th of August, or if that fell 
on a Sunday, on the 19th ; as in 1734, on which occasion Dr. 

NOTES 273 

Leigh, Master of Balliol, was 'of the High Borlace,' and the 
first clergyman who had attended. It seems to have been 
patronised by the county families, and it is not improbable 
that there was a ball connected with it. The members chose 
a Lady Patroness; in 1732, Miss Stonhouse ; in 1733, Miss 
Molly "Wickham of Garsington ; 1734, Miss Anne Cope. . . . 
On that occasion Mr. Moseley of Merton was proposed as 
member of the said Borlace, but rejected, probably because he 
was a member of a Whig college." See p. 165. 

3 Oxford Sausage, p. 109. 

P. 59. 1 Oxford Sausage, pp. 101-104. 

2 Ib. p. 108. 

3 "Some years agoe came out at Oxford a poem called 
Alerton Walks, the walks in the garden of that place being 
every Sunday night, in the pleasant time of the year, thronged 
with young gentlemen and young gentlewomen, which grow- 
ing scandalous, the garden gate was, at last, shut up quite, 
and thereupon the young gentlemen and others betook them- 
selves to Magdalen College walk, which is now every Sunday 
night in summer-time strangely filled, just like a fair." 
Hearne's Diary, July 30, 1723. 

P. 63. 1 Spectator, No. 30. 

P. 64.- 1 Amherst, Terror Mlius, Nos. 25, 26. 

P. 66. * Spectator, No. 17. 

2 Oxford Journal, July 15, 1775. 

3 Hearne's Diary, Aug. 22, 1733. 

4 * * Engrain on an Epigram. 

One day in Christ Church meadows walking, 
Of Poetry and such tilings talking, 

Says Kalph, a merry wag, 
An Epigram, if right and good, 
In all its circumstances should 

Be like a Jelly-Bag. 

Your simile, I own, is new, 

But how dost make it out, quoth Hugh * 

Quoth Ralph, I'll tell thee, Friend , 
Make it at Top both wide and lit 
To hold a Budget-full of Wit, 

And point it at the End. 


T.B. This Epigram is printed from the original Manu- 
script, preserved in the Archives of the Jelly-Bag Society." 
Oxford Sausage, pp. 87, 88. "Ralph" is said to have been 
Ralph Bathurst. Wordsworth, Univ. Soc. p. 150. 

P. 67. l Plot, Natural History of Oxfordshire, ch. iii. 
sec. 43. 

2 Aubrey, Lives, vol. ii. p. 512. 

p. 68. * Oxoniana (1807), vol. iv. pp. 115, 116. 

3 Hearne's Diary, Sept. 5, 1723. 

3 Xb. Jan. 3, 1726-7. 

4 n. June 25, 1727. 

P. 69. i Ib. June 12, 1727. 

2 This speech was suppressed and printed. A copy is in 
the Bodleian, Pamph. 384. 

3 Amherst, Terras Filius, No. 34. "ColL," Amherst ex- 
plains in a footnote to No. 33, stands for "college ale." 

4 Twiss, Life of Lord Mdon, vol. i. p. 53. 

P. 70. 1 This letter has not been identified. Adelung in 
his WorterbucJi (1808) says the Latin form " Supernaculum" 
had lately come in to describe the ancient "Nagel-Probe," 
i.e. the pouring of the last drop of liquid on the nail to prove 
the cup was empty. He quotes the English phrase " to drink 
supernaculum." See Brand's Popular Antiquities, ii. 209, 
210, and for etymology, p. 200. Golman in his Random 
Records, vol. i. p. 136, describes the decayed old-fashioned inn at 
Oxford where the landlord (1775) brought out his " smeared 
decanter, containing sloe-juice, which he called a bottle of his 
supernaculum." The word was in use among old peasants in 
Connaught twenty-five years ago. 

2 See on this bowl A. Clark, Colleges of Oxford (1891), p 
387. It was given in 1732. 

3 BoswelTs Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, vol. iii. p. 245. 

4 Southey's Life and Correspondence (1849), vol. i. p. 177. 

5 Memorials of Andrew Crosse (1857), pp. 32, 33. 
P. 71. * Twiss, Life of Lord Eldon, vol. i. p. 54. 
3 Memorials of A. Crosse, p. 32. 

3 Hearne's Diary, May 11, 1712. 

4 Ib. Feb. 17, 1712-13. 

NOTES 275 

P. 72. - 1 Hearae's Diary, Nov. 13, 1726. He dates the 
event "about the year 1704.'* 

2 II. Oct. 23, 1729. 

3 U>. Sept. 1, 1721. 

4 A number of names of taverns have been preserved in 
Larwood and Hotten's History of Signboards, p. 33, under the 
title of Signs of Love at Oscford, by an Inn-consolable Lover. 

"She's as light as the Grey-hound as fair as the Angel, 
Her looks than the Mitre more sanctified are ; 
But she flies like the Roebuck and leaves me to range ill, 
Still looking to her as my true polar Star. 
Neio JjiTi-ventions I try with new art to adore, 
But my fate is, alas ! to be voted a Boar. 
My Goats I foisook to contemplate her charms, 
And must own she is fit for our noble King's Amis. 
Now Cross* d and now Jockey'd, now sad, now elate, 
The Chequers appear but a map of my fate. 
I blush'd like a Blue-Cur to send her a Pfoasant, 
But she calTd me a Turk and rejected my present. 
So I mop'd to the Barley-Mow, griev'd in my mind 
That the Ark from the flood ever rescu'd mankind. 
In my dreams Lions roar and the Green Dragon gnns, 
And friends rise in shape of the Seven Deadly Sins 
When I ogle the Bells, should I see her approach, 
I skip like a Nag, and jump into the Coach. 
She is crimson and white like a Shoulder of Mutton, 
Not the red of the Ox was so bright when first put on. 
Like the Holly-tush prickles she scratches my liver, 
"While I moan and die like a Swan by the river." -J. R. 

B T. Warton's Poetical Works, ed. Mant (1802), intro- 
ductory memoir, vol. L p. ciii. 

P. 73. * Philips, TJic 8plend<id Shilling. 

2 Amherst, Terra Films (1726), appendix, p. 327. 

P. 76. 1 " Penniless Bench is a seat joyning to S. Martin's 
Church apud Quadrwium" [Carfax], "where butter- women 
and hucksters use to sit," says Anthony Wood in a note to 
this passage (AvAofiiogra/pliy, Feb. 1647-8). See the Uni- 
versity regulation in 1584, "that no schollars shall sit 
on bulkes or penniless bench, or other open places " (Oxoniana, 
vol. iv. p. 176). " On. the left hand, under the east end of 


St. Martin's Clmrcli, yee see that seate, which is called Penne- 
lesse Bench, builded by the Cittie, as well for their solace and 
prospect every waie, as for the convenience of the Market 
Women in the tyme of Raine " (Hutten's Survey, 0. H. S. 
voL xxxis. p. 59). It was first built in 1545, " re-sedified with 
stone pillars, July 1667, "says "Wood (0. H. S. vol. xvii. p. 86) ; 
Peshall adds (p. 180), " since pulled down, and instead thereof 
an alcove." "Adjoining to the east end of Carfax Church are 
to be found the imperfect traces of a place properly dedicated 
to the Muses, and described in our statutes by the familiar but 
forbidding denomination of Pennyless Bench. History and 
tradition report that many eminent poets have been Benchers 
here. To this seat of the Muses we are most probably in- 
debted for that celebrated poem Tlie Splendid Shilling of 
Philips ; and that the author of the Panegyric on Oxford Ale 
was no stranger to this inspiring bench may be fairly con- 
cluded from these verses where he addresses the God or 
Goddess of Ticking - 

'Beneath thy shelter, pennyless I quaff 
The cheerful cup.' " 

A Companion to the Guide (by T. Warton), pp. 15, 16. See 
also Fletcher's Carfax Church (Oxford, 1896), pp. 12, 13, and 
pi. iii. 

3 Wood's Autobiography, Dec. 1647, Feb. 1647-8 ; Euddes- 
ford and Warton, Lives of Leland, Hearne, and Wood (1772), 
vol, ii. pp. 44-46. 

P. 77.* Probably fields on the west side of St. Giles's 
Street, now built over. 

2 Southey's Life, vol. i. p. 176. 

3 Hurdis, The Village Curate. 

P.. 78. * Built in 1742. Wordsworth, Univ. Soc. p. 201. 
2 Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, new series, voL ii. (1835), 
p. 542. 

s Amherst, Terra Filius, No. 1. 

P. 79. ! Twiss, Life of Lord Eldon, vol. i. pp. 56, 57. 
2 Warton, The Phaeton and the One-horse Chair. 
P. 80. * Aubrey, Lives, vol. ii. pp. 585-86. 

NOTES 277 

P. 82. * No reference has been found for this. 

2 Warton, Panegyric on Oxford Ale. 

3 Wordsworth, Univ. JSoc p. 128, quotes from a letter written 
by an undergraduate of Trinity College, Oxford, in 1792, who 
used to breakfast at 8.30 with his neighbour 

Pnend Warren takes accustomed seat, 
Pours tea on sugar very sweet, 

And cream not over rich ; 
And rolls he cleverly does spread, 
Or from brown George toasts slice of bread. 

"Brown George" is the name of a loaf in a poem of Samuel 
Wesley the elder. 

4 " . . . misspending the morning; since (as you [i.e. 
Dr. Newton] once ingeniously express'd it) nothing more can 
"be expected from those Jentacular Confabulations." Amhertsfc, 
Terra J?ihv& (1726), appendix, p. 330. 

P. S3. 1 Oxford Sausage, pp. 17-20 
2 Warton, Ode to a Grizzle Wig. 

P. 85. l Warton, Newsman's Verses, 1770. 
P. 86. 1 These lines have not been found. 
P. 87. J Oxford Journal, June 1, 1776. 

P. 90. * Ib. March 18, 1775. 

2 Ib. Nov. 26, 1774. 

3 16. Nov. 9, 1776. 

P. 94. * Trial and Memoirs of Isaac Darkvn, alias Dumas. 
Oxford, 1761. Gentleman's Magazine, vol. xxxi. p. 139. 

2 Oxford Journal, Feb. 10, March 9, July 20, Sept, 7, 1776 ; 
March 8, April 5, 1777. 

8 Ib. Oct. 19, 1776. 

4 Ib. June 10, 1775. 

P. 95. l Ib. Nov. 5, 1774. 

P. 96. * "In the middle of the street, facing Colesbourne 
Lane ; " the exact position of the lane is not known. 0. H. S, 
vol. xxxix. p. 69. 

2 The pillory of Holy well manor, in the jurisdiction of 
Merton College. Ib. p. 136. 


3 Tlie stocks replaced the gallows before 1800. The gallows 
got the name of "Gownsman's Gallows" about 1780. Dr. 
Kouth, President of Magdalen, gave the reason. "What, sir, 
do you tell me, sir, you never heard of Gownsman's Gallows * 
Why, I tell you, sir, I have seen two undergraduates hanged 
on Gown&man's Gallows in Holy well hanged, sir, for highway 
robbery, " 0. S. 8. vol. sxsdx. p 136. 

4 An account of the rights of Merton College, and the 
former rectors of St. Peter's-in-the-East, to hang offenders on 
this gallows will be found in PeshalTs edition of "Wood's City of 
Ox/Old, pp. 243-44, with the case of Bogo de Clare. 

5 The Httle house between the passage into Amsterdam and 
the new gateway to Brasenose College occupies the site of this 
Hall. Borouwaldescote Inn took the name of Broadgates Hall 
about 1426. 0. H. S. vol. xsziz. p. 176. See also PeshalTs 
Wood, p. 48. 

6 PeshaU's Wood, pp. 48, 49. 

7 II. p. 117. 

P. 97. 1 "A 'Butter Bench* still remained within living 
memory in the corner of Carfax where Boffin's shop now is." 
0. H. S. vol. xv. p. 47, note 10. This was a part of the old Butter- 
bench which stood on the west side of Fish Street (now St. 
Aldate's) and perhaps down the Great Bayly (now Queen 
Street), running round the corner opposite to that occupied by 
Penniless Bench (see above, p. 76, note 1). Both Benches 
were originally made to shelter the market-women; see 
PeshalTs Wood, p. 181. The stocks are figured in a woodcut 
opposite p. 15 of Warton's Companion to the Guide (2nd ed. 
1762), with the following note: "This Structure formerly 
stood on the South Side of Carfax Conduit ; from whence it 
was removed to the City Hill, as a more convenient Situation, 
in the mayoralty of Thomas Munday, Eso^., Anno MDCCLIX." 

2 Oxford Jowmal, April 13, 1776. 

P. 98. T A stone bridge with pointed arches, widened with 
wooden additions on the north side ; it was known as Tu- 
brugge, from crossing the two Cherwells. 

2 No reference for this has been found. It may bo noted 
that in September 1761 Thomas Munday, Mayoi, accompanied 

NOTES 279 

by two aldermen, the bailiffs, two assistants, and the Town 
Clerk, went to London to assist on the Coronation day, with the 
Lord Mayor of London, as Chief Butler of England. Oxford, 
Journal, Sept. 19 and 26, 1761. 

P. 99. i 11. Oct. 1, 1774. 

2 Ib. Sept. 23, 1775. 

3 Aubrey, Lives, vol. ii. p. 303. 

P. 100. J The family was flourishing c. 1240. 0. S. S. 
vol. xxxix. p. 67. A Lambert Burewald is mentioned 1262 ; 
and Dionysia Burewald, c. 1424. Ib. pp. 153, 139. 

2 Eepeharme's Hall was near St. Edward's Church, the 
foundations of which have been found north of Blue Boar 
Lane and west of Alfred Street. Ib. p. 195. 

3 Peshall's Wood, p. 156. 0. H. S. vol. xv. p. 199. 

4 Oxford Journal, Oct. 5, 1776. 

P. 101. -J Wood's Autobiography, Sept. 15, 1673. 
2 Ib. Sept. 29, 1679. 

P. 102. i Ib. Sept. 15, 1673. 
2 Ib. Feb. 2 and Sept. 20, 1695. 

P. 103. J Ib. Nov. 27, 1682. 

2 Ib. June 28, 1685. 

3 Ib. June 22, 1685. 

4 "Broken Heys, limited on the south and west sides with 
the castle and Stockwell Street, on the north and east by the 
King's Pallace (since the White Fryers), and the street on 
the west side of Magdalen parish church, hath bin from all 
antiquity till within 24 years a rude, broken, and undigested 
place. ' "Magdalen parish taketh it to be a common belong- 
ing to their parish. The toune look on it as theirs because 
(they are) Lords of North Gate Hundred, build houses round 
it and set trees, anno 1671. The toune levelled it and made 
it a bouling green anno 1638 or 1639." Wood's City of Oxford, 
0. J5T. S. vol. xv. p. 363. Stookwell Street is now Worcester 
Street ; the Bang's Palace of Beaumont, afterwards the White 
Friars, stood near the north-west corner of the present Beaumont 
Street. In Peshall's map, 1773, the name of Broken Heys is 
replaced by that of Gloucester Green, which the place still 


retains ; but "the rough land to the east of the well" 
which Stock-well Street took its name) "is still known as 
Broken -hays among the older population, and the floors of 
some of the old cottages there are even now most undecided 
which level to take." 0. H. S. vol xxxix. p. 97. The name 
Broken Hayes is now attached to a small passage leading out of 
George Street into Bulwarks Alley at the west end of the play- 
ground of the Oxford High School. 0. H. 8. vol. xv. p. 363, 
note 2. 

6 Wood's Autobiography, June 30, 1685. 

p. 104. i ft. July 24, 1694. 
2 Hearne's Diary, Dec. 14, 1732. 
P. 105. i 75. Nov. 1, 1705. 
2 Oxford Journal, Jan. 21, 1775. 

8 II. Feb. 11, 1775. The Jowrnal does not say that the 
man was supposed to he a clergyman. 

P. 106. l Oxford Journal, Aug. 27, 1774. 

2 75. Sept. 3, Oct. 8, 1774. 

P. 107. 1 " The late Mayor of Oxford, with several gentle- 
men of the Corporation, were called before the House for mal- 
practice with respect to the ensuing election of members for 
that city. They were severely reprimanded and committed to 
Newgate." Gentleman's Magazine, Feb. 1768. "The speech 
of the Speaker of the House of Commons when he reprimanded 
Philip Ward, late Mayor of the City of Oxfoid ; John Treacher, 
Sir Thomas Munday, Thomas Wise, John Nichols, John 
Philips Isaac Lawrence, Richard Tawnay, all of the said 
city ; Thomas Robinson and John Brown, late bailiffs of the 
said City, upon their knees at the Bar of the said House, upon 
Wednesday the 10th day of February 1768," is given in 
Gentleman's Magazine, March 1768. " The Mayor and Alder- 
men of Oxford had written word to their members that they 
should be re-elected if they would pay 7500, to discharge 
the debts of the Corporation. With proper spirit the members 
laid the case before the House, and the House committed the 
peccant Mayor and Aldermen to Newgate for five days, when 
having acknowledged their guilt and asked pardon they were 
discharged. , . . During their very imprisonment it is said 

NOTES 281 

they completed another bargain for their borough with the 
Duke of Marlborough and Lord Abingdon." Mahon, Hist, of 
England, vol. v. p. 190. This incident, which made so great 
a stir, is not alluded to in the Oxford Journal. 

2 Oxfoid Journal, Aug. 19, 1769. 
J 11. Aug. 6 and Get. 8, 1774. 

4 Now Grove Street 0. H. S. vol. zv. p. 137. 

P. 108. J Wood's Autobiography, April 15, 1669. 

- Oxford Journal, Jan. 21, 1775. "A third ox was roasted 
whole in the market-place for the benefit of the populace ; and 
by way of diversion there was backsword playing and other 

3 No reference has been found for this. 

4 Oxford Journal, Aug. 27, 1774. 

5 Ib. Nov. 5, 1774. 

P. 109.-* Peshairs Wood, p. 84. 

2 Oxford, Journal, Feb. 10, 1776. 

3 Ib. Feb. 24, 1776. 

4 Ib. Oct. 14, 1775. 

P. 110. * Ib. July 29, 1775. 
2 Ib. March 4, 1775. 

P. 111. 1 Ib. Nov. 26, 1774. 

P. 112. i Ib. Dec. 31, 1774. 

2 U. Jan. 7, 1775. 

3 75. May 4, 1776. 

P. 118.* J5. May 4, 1776. 

2 J&. Oct. 28, 1775. 

3 /&. March 23, 1776. 

P. 114. l Wood's Autobiography, Sept. 3, 1687. 
2 Peshall's "Wood, p. 123. 

P. 115. 1 J&. pp. 40, 41. See also 0. &. S. vol. zvii. p. 

2 Peshall's Wood, p. 39. 

3 7&. p. 175. 

P. 116. J "Pary's Meadow, roughly the Physic Garden." 
0. JET. S. vol. xxxix. p. 31. 


2 Shydyard Street was formerly derived from "Scheda," a 
roll of paper or strip of papyrus. An. older version of the 
name, however, is " Sid-therd-street " (side-thread-street), or 
Silk- thread Street. It used to run south to the city wall, and 
was first leased by the city to Corpus in 1556. 0. H. S. vol. 
xxxix. p. 180. 

P. 117. J Peshall's Wood, p. 332. 
2 76. pp. 335-337. 

P. 118. * "The name Gloucester Green in Loggan's map, 
1675, is attached to an open space which is now that part of 
Walton Street which is over against the Provost of Worcester's 
garden ; in Peshall's map, 1773, it is attached, as it is now, 
to what in Loggan's map is called Broken Hays. " 0. H. S. vol. 
xv. p. 363, note 3. See above, p. 103, note 4. In 1601 Queen 
Elizabeth granted three fairs "to be kept every year in 
Broken Heys and Gloucester Grene . . . but," says Wood, 
"this I suppose was either neglected for the same causes with 
the market that was to be kept here and granted at the same 
time, or else by the seldome recourse or paucity of people 
thereto." 0. H. S. vol. xv, pp. 504-5. Peshall, p. 338, says : 
"A Fair was attempted some years ago for beasts of all sorts, to 
be held on Gloucester Green. Some faint efforts were made for 
its restoration, but soon vanished and disappeared, as hereto- 
fore. At present we have no fair, a wake is at St. Giles's, 
called St. Giles's Wake, yearly, the Monday after St. Giles's 
day. The other on Gloucester Green the 3rd of May." 

2 Oxford Journal, Sept 23, 1775. 

3 Salmon, Present State of the Universities (1744), p. 410. 

4 Oxford Journal, June 22, 1776. 

5 Hearne's Diary, Feb. 16, 1723-4. 

6 Oxford Journal, May 7, 1774. 

P. 119. 1 See the Chronicle given in Annual Reguter, 

P. 120. 1 Oxford Journal, Aug. 12, 1775. 

2 76. Sept. 16 and 23, 1775. 

3 Il>. March 12 and 19, 1774. 

P. 123. x PeshalTs Wood, p. 88. 

NOTES 283 

2 "He says, that the tradition used to be, that Blake's 
oak (as we go to Abbington) was so called, because Blake was 
hanged there upon it (he being a great Parliamentary villain) 
for betraying three Christian kings." Hearne's Diary, Feb. 
21, 1723-4. This " Will Bremicham, of S. Peter's parish in the 
East," was then in his ninety-first year, and had never lived 
out of Osford, " unless it were before he was in breeches, when 
he was not two years of age, that he staid a little while at 
Norleigh. " 

P. 124. l "Wood's Autobiography, Aug. 15, 17, and 31, 

P. 125. l Bliss, note to Hearne's Diary, Oct. 23, 1711. 
2 Hearne's Diary, Sept. 3, 1720. 

P. 126. ! 11. Feb. 14, 1720-1. 

2 Ib. Nov. 11, 1720. 

3 Amherst, Terras Fitius, No. 32. 

P. 127. 1 Hearne's Diary, March 15, 1733. 

P. 132. l Fuller, Worthies of England, ed. Nuttall (1840), 
voL iii. p. 2. 

2 Plot, Nat. Hist, of Oxfordshire (1677), ch. iii. sec. 2. 

P. 134. 1 Edmund Miller, Account of the University of 
Carriage (1717), p. 196. 

P. 135. ! Hearne's Diary, Sept. 19, 1709. 

2 Ib. Oct. 18, 1705. 

8 Southey, Life of Wesley, vol. i. pp. 9-11. 

P. 136. * Hearne's Diary, Sept. 28, 1705. 

P. 187.* II. 

3 Ib. Nov. 9, 1705. 
* Ib. Nov. 13, 1705. 

4 Ib. March 4, 1709-10. 

P. 138. i II. March 1, 1706-7. 

P. 139,-^ II. Nov. 11, Dec. 5, 1709 ; March 4, 1709-10. 
See also the letter of Sacheverell to the Vice-Chancellor of 
Oxford, Feb. 5, 1709-10, in Letters written ly Eminent Pers&ns 
(1813), i, 200-1. He had taken his degree of D.D. 1708. 


2 Of. Eearne's Diary, July 20, 1710. 

P. 140.* Ib. Oct. 23, 1711. 

p. H3. l Southey, Ufe of Wesley, vol. i. p. 23. 

P. 144, - 1 Hearne's Diary, Aug. 5, 1714. 

P 145. * Ib. Aug. 4 and 5, 1714. 

2 A room in the old Clarendon, described in Amherst's 
Terras Fdius, No. 11 : "That famous apartment, by idle wits 
and buffoons nicknamed Golgotha, i.e. the place of Sculls or 
Heads of Colleges and Halls, where they meet and debate 
upon all extraordinary affairs which occur within the precincts 
of their jurisdiction," etc. 

3 Ib. No. 50. 

P. 146. l Ib. 

2 Hearne's Diary, May 28, 1715. 

P. 147. * Amherst, Terra* Mlius, No. 50. Hearne's Diary, 
May 29, 1715. 

2 Hearne's Diary, May 29, 1715. 

P. 148. * Amherst, Terros Filius, No. 50. 

2 Hearne's Diary, May 29, 1715. 

P. 149. * Amherst, Terras Filius, No. 50. 

3 Hearne's Diary, July 29, 1707. 

P. 150. i Ib. June 5, 1715. 

P. 151. J J&. June 10, 1715. 

2 I&. Sept. 10, 1715, 

3 Ib. Oct. 20, 1714. 

4 Parliamentary Debates, vol. vi. pp. 325-28. Sir "William 
"Whitlocke, member for Oxford University, "made a kind of 
excuse for what he said " ; Sir William "Wyndham refused to 
apologise and was reprimanded by the House. 

5 Oct. SO, 1715. 

6 " The Officers and Soldiers of Sterne's Regiment quartered 
there." Political State of Great Britain, vol. x. p. 506. 

P. 152. x March 25, 1717. 

P. 154. ! A full account of the riot of October 30, 1716, and 
the subsequent proceedings in Parliament is given in Political 
State, vol. sii. pp. 505-531; vol. xiii. pp. 420-444. 

NOTES 285 

2 The riots above described occurred on October 30, 1716, 
and the parliamentary proceedings on them in March and 
April 1717. The address here referred to was sent up, and 
rejected by the king, in August 1715. "The University of 
Oxford had also prepared an address to be presented to his 
Majesty ; but the Deputies they had sent up to London for 
that purpose were given to understand 'That as they had 
shewn a manifest Disrespect to his Majesty's Person and 
Government in all their late Proceedings, so his Majesty 
expected they should convince him of their Loyalty by their 
Actions and not by Words.*" Polit. Mate, vol. x. p. 121. 
There had been riots in Oxford on August 27, 1715, at the 
very time when the address was sent 

P. 155.* October 5, 1715. 

2 "One Lloyd, the famous Jacobite Coffee-man at Charing 
Cross, near "Whitehall, who formerly followed the same em- 
ployment in Dublin." Polit. State, vol. x. p. 345. For the 
trial and execution of the conspirators in November see *&. 
pp. 535-36. 

3 Brigadier Handasyde. 

4 October 28, 1715. 

5 The whole account of Owen, Pepper, and Handasyde is in 
Polit t jState, vol. x. pp. 343-46. On Pepper and Owen see also 
Amherst, Terras Filius, ]STos. 6, 29, 41. 

P. 156. J Hearne's Diary, Aug. 26, 1720. A letter from 
Oxford in September 1715 says : "I think myself very happy 
in being settled in this so loyal a place, and only want your 
good Company to compleat it ; for here we fear nothing, but 
drink James's Health every day." PoM. State, vol. x. p. 342 
(wrongly numbered 332). 

3 The author was Dr. Trapp; see The Book of Rarities in 
the University of Cambridge, by Eov. 0. H. Hartshorne, 1829. 
-r-J. E. 

P. 157. * Monk, Life ofBentley, vol. i. p. 377. 

P. 158. x Smollett, History of England, ed. Hughes, vol. 
viii. p. 203. 

P. 161.* Dr. Wintle. Amherst, Terras Filius, dedication, 
p. x., 2nd ed. 


P. 162. * They shewed (1721) in the battlements of the 
gateway turret at St. John's a hole said to be made by Oliver 
Cromwell's cannon shot, when he besieged Oxford. Amherst, 
Terra Filius, No. 34. 

P. 163. ! n. No. 45. 

2 Richard Meadowcourt, B.A., Merton, 1714 ; afterwards 
(1735) canon of Worcester. A. 0. 

p. 164. * One of them is of special interest : "D a Carte 
e Coll. Univ." This must be the historian ; matriculated at 
University, 1698; B.A., Brasenose, 1702; M,A., King's, 
Cambridge, 1706 ; but still, apparently, with his name, as a 
B.A., on the books at University College. Carte never 
sought a repeal of the sentence against him. A. C. 

2 On June 28, 1716. A. C. 

3 On November 28, 1718. A. C. 

4 Amherst, Terra Filius, Nos. 22, 23, 24, 50. 

P. 165. 1 II. No. 50. 
\Hearne's Diary, Aug. 26, 1734. 
3 Amherst, Terra Filius, No. 5. 

P. 166. * n. No. 50. 

3 Eearne's Diary, Oct. 22, 1723. 
8 It. May 29, 1727. 

4 "On Saturday (Sept. 5) came to Oxford two of the 
daughters of Richard Cromwell, son of Oliver Cromwell, pro- 
tector, one of which is married to Dr. Gibson, the physician, 
who writ the Anatomy ; the other is unmarried. They are 
both presbyterians, as is also Dr. Gibson, who was with them. 
They were at the presbyterian meeting-house in Oxford on 
Sunday morning and evening ; and yesterday they and all the 
gang of them dined at Dr. Gibson's, Provost of Queen's, who 
is related to them and made a great entertainment for thorn, 
expecting something from them, the physician being said to 
be worth 30,000. They went from Oxford after dinner." 
Hearne's Diary, Sept. 8, 1719. 

5 BoswelTs Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, vol. i. p. 73. 

P. 167. 1 Amherst, Terra Filius, No. 3. 

2 "The Cushion Plot," Oxford Sausage, pp. 105-6. 

NOTES 287 

8 Amherst, Terrcs Filius, 'No. 35. 

P. 168. l Amherst, Terra Filius, No. 35. 
2 Wood's Autobiography, Jan. 30, 1693-4. 

P. 169. * Jackson, Life of Charles Wesley (1841), vol. i. 
p. 33. 

2 Eearne's Diary, Feb. 23, 1726-7. 

P. 171. l Amherst, Terra Filius, Nos. 14, 15, 16, 39. 

P. 172. x Gutch, Collectanea Curiosa (1781), vol. ii. pp. 

P. 173. 1 Hume and Smollett, History of England, ed. 
Hughes, vol. ix. pp. 154-5. 

P. 175. 1 Warton, Poetical Works, ed. Mant, introductory 
memoir, vol. i. p. xxii. 
2 II. pp. xcviii-ciii. 

P. 176. x Jo. p. cvi. 

P. 177. l "William King, Anecdotes (1818), pp. 251-52. 

P. 178. * Warton, Poetical Works, ed. Mant, introductory 
memoir, vol. i. p. xv. 

P. 181. * Mrs. Hewlitt. See Introduction, p. xx. 

P. 184. * See Introduction, p. xx. John Bickerton 
matriculated at St. Edmund Hall in 1793, then aged 
twenty-eight, and took B.A. in 1799. Later in life he is 
said to have taken possession of some rooms in Hertford 
College, then tumbling to decay, and become a squatter 
there. For the "squatting" at Hertford College see G-. V. 
Cox's Recollections of Oxford, 2nd ed. p. 190. 

P. 186. * See Introduction, pp. xix, xx. 

P. 190. * A. Young, Vi&w of the Agriculture of Oxfordshire 
(1809), p. 324. 

2 Pope, Works, ed. Elwin and Courthope, vol. i. p. 236 ; 
vol. vii. pp. 78, 79. 

P. 191. a Young, Agriculture of Oxfordshire , p. 324. 
p. 193._ .2 Oxford Journal, Oct. 11, 1783. 
p. 194. i JJ. Oct. 25, 1783. 
2 75. Nov. 8, 1783. 


P. 198. l Young, Agriculture of Oxfordshire, p. 35. 

2 75. p. 232. 

P. 199. * n. p. 35. 

p. 200. l William Lilly, History of his Life and Times 
(1715), p. 1. 

3 Young, Agriculture of Oxfordshire, p. 204. 

P. 201. a n. p. 4. 
2 Ib. p. 91. 
* 75. p. 11. 

4 II. p. 87. 

P. 202. l n. pp. 91-94. 

2 75. p. 231. 

P. 203. * H. p. 239. 

3 75. pp. 227-29. 

3 Ib. p. 19. 

4 7. p. 75. 

6 " I have so rarely met with horse-hoeing in Oxfordshire, 
which is so much wanting in their bean culture, that I hope 
the practice will gradually travel from Henley." Ib, p. 77. 

6 75. pp. 110 et seq. 

P. 204. 1 Ib. pp. 173-76. 

2 75. p. 207. 

3 75.' p. 268. 

4 Ib. p. 264. 
c 75. p. 315. 
c Ib. p. 268. 

P. 205. l 75. pp. 317-22. 

2 Ib. p. 23. 

3 75. p. 323. 

P. 206. 1 The chain was sent to France ; it was sold for 
163,600 times the worth of the pig-iron, taking that at less 
than Jd. the two ounces. R. K 

2 Young, pp. 325-330. 

P. 207. a 75. pp. 43-44, 59. 

2 75. p. 340. 

P. 208. * Oxford Journal, July 24, 1784. 

NOTES 289 

P. 209. * Oxford Journal, July 27, 1782. 

2 "Mr. Sadler of Oxford was the first Englishman who 
ascended with a balloon. He constructed one himself, with 
which he rose from Oxford on the 4th of October, and a second 
time on the 12th, and sailed 15 miles in 18 minutes." Imison, 
Elements of Science, ed. by Webster, i. 168 (London, 1822). 
R. R. See Oxford Journal, Feb. 14, June 12, July 24, Sept. 
25, 1784. 

3 Oxford Journal, Feb. 21, June 5, 12, 1784. 

4 Ib. Nov. 13, 1784. See June 25, 1785. 

P. 210. I IT). June 25, 1785. 

2 It. July 27, 1782. 

3 75. Aug. 23, 1783. 

P. 212. 1 21. Feb. 14, 1784. 

P. 213. 1 Ib. Sept. 17, 1785. 
2 II. Sept. 21, 1782. 
8 Ib. Sept. 20, 1783. 

4 75. April 3, 1784. 

5 75. July 24, 1784. 

6 21. July 31, 1784. He was succeeded in September by 
Mr. John Treacher, brewer. Ib. Sept. 24, 1784. 

7 11. Sept. 24, Oct. 1, 1784. 

P. 214. * 75. Oct. 4, 1783. 

2 75. April 16, 30, 1785. 

3 II. April 3, 1784. 

P. 215. J 75. April 10, 1784. 
2 76. Aug. 7, 1784. 

P. 216. * Ib. Feb. 4, 1786 ; Dec. 2, 1786. 

2 Built in 1610 by Otho Nicholson, M.A., of Christ Church, 
one of the Examiners of the Chancery (0. H. S. vol. zv. pp. 62, 
441, 446 ; at the first reference the date is wrong), " who for the 
publike good both of the Universitie and Citty, builded the 
same, every Colledge from thence haveing a Cock to their 
Kitchins, and the wholl Towne recourse thereunto for their 
Water." Hutten's Survey, O.&.S. vol. xxxix. p. 58. It stood 
on the site of the old Bull Ring, and at the time of its erection 
there was plenty of room for it ; but fifty years later the 


encroachment of houses and shop-fronts had so narrowed the 
space around it that it was alieady complained of as a 
nuisance. 0. SC. /$'. vol. xv. pp. 62-63, 441-46, where it is fully 

3 Oxford Journal, Oct. 28, 1786. 

P. 217. l Ib. May 5, 1787. 

2 Ib. Aug. 19, 1786. 

P. 218. T II. Sept. 16, 1786. 

2 Ib. April 7, 1787. 

3 Ib. Jan. 7, 1786. 

4 Ib. March 18, April 1, 29, 1786. "The indictment 
against the actor and abettors before the fact for stealing 
plate out of the chapel belonging to Magdalen College in 
Oxford" is in The Grown Circuit Companion, pp. 98, 99 
(London, 1820). Not long after Le Maltre robbed the Ash- 
molean (1776), Tho. Gerringand Miles "Ward robbed Magdalen 
Chapel; see the Newgate Calendar, vol. iii. p. 37 (London, 
1824). R R. 

P. 219. 1 Oxford Journal, Aug. 5, 1786. 
2 II. Dec. 12, 1789. 

* Ib. Sept. 23, 1786. 

4 Ib. Oct. 21, 1786. 

5 Ib. Sept. 1, 1787. 

Ib. June 30, 1787. 

P. 220. 1 An Hart Hall man goes to Trinity because they 
had a fine garden there which he hoped would be of advantage 
to his health. "I do acknowledge it is a very fine garden. 
I question whether there are finer evergreens in any garden in 
Europe than in that of Trinity College." Newton, University 
Education, p. 82, in Amherst, appendix to Terrce Fihus (edition 
1726), pp. 165, 166. Newton maintains, quoting Spenser, 
Faerie Queen, I. i. 9, that the yews were meant to teach 
undergraduates obedience to fcheir benders and pruners. R. R. 

2 Oxford Journal, June 23, 1787. 

3 Ib. May 29, 1790. 

P. 221. 1 Ib. Sept 22, Oct. 6, 1787. 

2 Ib. July 12, 19 ; Aug. 16, 1788. 

3 Ib. May 31, 1788. 

NOTES 291 

4 Oxford Journal, Jan. 10, 1789. 

P. 222. * Ib. March 14, 21, 1789. 

2 75. Oct. 81, 1789. 

3 /&. Jan. 30, 1790. 

P. 223. 1 It is placed in Loggan's map of 1675 to your 
left as you cross the bridge into the Water "Walk, beyond an 
arched gateway of stone. 

2 Oxomana, vol. ii. pp. 155-56 ; Oxford Journal, July 4, 

3 Oxford Journal, Sept. 27, 1788. 

4 Ib. Sept. 26, Oct. 3, 1789. 

P. 224. x II. Aug. 28, Dec. 25, 1790. 

P. 225. l Ib. Sept. 4, 1790. 
2 IZ>. Aug. 7, 1790. 

p. 227. * 7&. June 9, 1792. 

P. 228. * 11. Dec. 8 and 15, 1792. 

2 IS. Aug. 4, 1792. 

3 II. Nov. 10, Dec. 22, 1792. In March 1795 Convoca- 
tion voted that two thousand copies of the New Testament in 
Latin, from the University Press, should be placed at the 
service of the French refugee clergy in England. They 
had most of them escaped from France without books or any- 
thing else, and this distribution of these copies of the Vulgate 
was received with thankfulness. J. R. See Oxford Journal, 
March 14, 1795. 

4 Oxford Journal, Jan. 12, 1793. 

5 It. Jan. 26, 1793. 

P. 229. l xb. April 20, 1793. 
3 Ib. May 18, 1793. 

P. 230.^ L n. July 6, 1793. 

2 lo. July 13, 1793. 

3 J&. Nov. 16, 1793. 

4 Jb. April 12, 19, May 31, June 7, and Oct. 25, 1794. 

6 II. June 14, 1794. 

P. 231.- x II. Nov. 1, 8, and 15, 1794. 
2 Jb. June 7, 1794. 


encroachment of houses and shop-fronts had so narrowed the 
space around it that it was already complained of as a 
nuisance. 0. ff. 8. vol. xv. pp. 62-63, 441-46, where it is fully 

8 Oxford Journal, Oct. 28, 1786. 
P. 217. 1 IB. May 5, 1787. 

2 16. Aug. 19, 1786. 

P. 218. l II. Sept. 16, 1786. 

2 Ib. April 7, 1787. 

3 16. Jan. 7, 1786. 

4 16. March 18, April 1, 29, 1786. "The indictment 
against the actor and abettors before the fact for stealing 
plate out of the chapel belonging to Magdalen College in 
Oxford" is in The Crouxi Cwcwt Companion, pp. 98, 99 
(London, 1820). Not long after Le Maitre robbed the Ash- 
molean (1776), Tho. G-erring and Miles "Ward robbed Magdalen 
Chapel; see the Newgate Calendar, vol. iii. p. 37 (London, 
1824). R. R. 

P. 219. x Oxford Journal, Aug. 5, 1786. 
2 16. Dec. 12, 1789. 

9 16. Sept. 23, 1786. 

4 16. Oct. 21, 1786. 

5 76. Sept. 1, 1787. 

6 76. June 30, 1787. 

P. 220. 1 An Hart Hall man goes to Trinity because they 
had a fine garden theie which he hoped would be of advantage 
to his health. " I do acknowledge it is a very fine garden. 
I question whether there are finer evergreens in any garden in 
Europe than in that of Trinity College." Newton, University 
Education, p. 82, in Amherst, appendix to Terror Filius (edition 
1726), pp. 165, 166. Newton maintains, quoting Sponsor, 
Faerie Queen, I. i. 9, that the yews were meant to teach 
undergraduates obedience to their benders and prunors, R, R. 

2 Oxford Journal, June 23, 1787. 

3 16. May 29, 1790. 

P. 221. l 15. Sept, 22, Oct. 6, 1787. 

2 16. July 12, 19 ; Aug. 16, 1788. 

3 16. May 31, 1788. 

NOTES 291 

4 Oxford Journal, Jan. 10, 1789. 

P. 222. * 76. March 14, 21, 1789. 
3 76. Oct. 31, 1789. 

3 15. Jan. 30, 1790. 

P. 223. x It is placed in Loggan's map of 1675 to your 
left as you cross the bridge into the Water Walk, beyond an 
arched gateway of stone. 

2 Oxoniana, vol. ii. pp. 155-56 ; Oxford Joitrnal, July 4, 

8 Oxford Journal, Sept. 27, 1788. 

4 II. Sept. 26, Oct. 3, 1789. 

P. 224. ! 75. Aug. 28, Dec. 25, 1790. 

P. 225. l 15. Sept. 4, 1790. 
2 76. Aug. 7, 1790. 

P. 227. l 76. June 9, 1792. 

P. 228. * 76. Dec 8 and 15, 1792. 

2 75. Aug 4, 1792. 

8 75. Nov. 10, Dec. 22, 1792. In March 1795 Convoca- 
tion voted that two thousand copies of the New Testament in 
Latin, from the University Press, should be placed at the 
service of the French refugee clergy in England. They 
had most of them escaped from France without books or any- 
thing else, and this distribution of these copies of the Vulgate 
was lecoivod with thankfulness. J, K See Oxford Journal, 
March 14, 1795. 

4 Oxford Journal, Jan. 12, 1793. 

6 76. Jan. 26, 1793. 

P. 229. x 75. April 20, 1793. 
a 76. May 18, 1793. 

P. 230. * J6. July 6, 1793. 

* 76. July 13, 1793. 

8 76. Nov. 36, 1793. 

4 76, April 12, 19, May 31, June 7, and Oct. 25, 1794. 

/&. June 14, 1794. 

P. 231. * 76. Nov. 1, 8, and 15, 1794. 
2 /6. June 7, 1794. 


3 Oxford Journal, Marcli 28, 1795. 

4 /&. March 7, 1795. 

p. 232 * 15. Jan. 24, 1795. 
2 16. July 4, 1795. 
* II. Sept. 26, 1795. 
4 16. Dec. 19, 1795. 
6 J6. Dec. 26, 1795. 

P. 233. * Ib. July 11, 1795 

2 J5. Dec. 23, 1797. 

3 II Sept. 7, 1793. 

4 J&. May 5, 1792. 

5 Ib. Nov. 16, 1793. 

P. 234. J Ib. Aug. 2, 9, 1794. William Tainan appears 
in Foster's Alumni Oxonienses with, the description "toiisor 
priwUgiatus," and the date of matriculation, April 13, 1778. 

2 Oxford Journal, April 25, June 20, 1795. 

P. 243. 1 Eraken or Kraxen. See Pigott, (Scandinavian 
Mythology, p. 177. 

P. 249. 1 Oxford Spectator, No. 1, Nov. 26, 1867. 
P. 252. i 75. No. 5, Dec. 5, 1867. 


Abbot, Lord Tenterden, 71 

Abbey of, 6, 12, 13 

Earls of, 103, 107, 153, 203, 

208, 222 
Adams, Dr., 45 
Addison, quoted, 127, 147 
Adynton, Stephen, Mayor of 

Oxford, 100 

.^Sthelred the Unready, 15 
Age of the Georges, 27-29, 

Agriculture in Oxfordshire, 88, 

198-204, 240 
Aldrich, Henry, 67 
All Hallows' or All Saints, 114 
America, comment on war with, 

Amherst, persecution of, on a 

Whig, 161-6J 

Aune, Queen, Jacobite sym- 
pathies, 140 ; death of, 142 
Annesley, Arthur, election of, 

Architecture of old Oxford, 7, 


Arran, Earl of, 151 
Astrey, Sir James, 40 
Astrop, village of, 80 
Athelm, Abbot, 12 
Atkins, Mr., City Marshal, 


Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, 

139, 140, 141, 143, 153, 

Aubrey, John, quoted, 31, 37, 

43, 57, 67 
Auckland, Lord ("William 

Eden), 222, 242 
Auriel, Captain, 230 
Austin Fair, 117 
Austria, Ferdinand, Archduke 

of, visit to Oxford, 217 

Bagley Forest, 131 

Bailly, the, 12 

Barbers, company of, 114 

Bathiirst, 43 

Bayley, Mr., 106 

Beatrice, Princess of Modena, 

visit to Oxford, 217 
Beaumont, Royal Manor of, 7, 


Ben well, Thomas, 113, 220 
Berry, John, Mayor of Oxford, 


Captain, 79, 208, 214 ; death 
of, 224 

Family, 108 

Hon. Peregrine, 113 

Mr., charitable donations, 109 
Billington, Mrs., 229 
Birkenhead, Sir John, 38-40 



Blackett, 137 

"Blake's Oak/' 123 

Blandford, Marquis of, 209, 
217, 225 

Blaze, Bishop, 215 

Blenheim Palace, 104 

Blowfield, Mrs. Anne, 32 

Bodleian Library, 122 

Bolrngbroke, Lord, 140, 142 

Bowler, Mr., 208 

Bowyer, Admiral, 230 

Bradshaw, Dean, 166 

Bremicham, " Old Will," 123 

Brickenden, Miss, 58, 85 

Bristow, Mr., Ill 

Broadgate Hall, 96 

Broadwater, Mr., Mayor of 
Oxford, 144 

Bromley, 151, 156 

Broom, sale of a wife, 218 

Brown, Simon, 220, 221 

Thomas, 32 
Sir William, 156 

Buckingham, Duke of, 153 

Buokland, Dr. William, 249 

Francis Brownsword, 113 
John, 32 
Mr., 77 

Burewald, Dionysia, 100 

Burford, Mr., 193 

Bush, Mr., 213 

Bute, Lord, 229 

Cambridge, politics of, 156 ; 
Duke of Newcastle ap- 
pointed Chancellor, 1 74 
Campbell, Archibald, 168 
Camperdown victory, 233 
Carfax, centre of the old town, 23 
Castle of Oxford, built by 

Robert D'Otfly, 7, 11-14 
Castlemaine, Lady, 57 
Catalani, 210 
Cavendish, Lord George, 229 

Charles II., devotion of Oxford 

to, 124 
Charles X., refugee at Hatfield, 

Charles JEdward, Piince, biith 

of, 125, 126 
Charlett, Dr., 150 
Charters granted to Oxford, 18, 


Chatterton, Thomas, 127 
Chevalier St. George, name 
taken by the Pretender, 126 
Chillingworth family, 99 
All Hallows or All Saints, 

Christchurch Chapel (St. 

Frideswide), 3 
Holywell, 13 
Magdalen Chape], robbery 

from, 218 
St. Aldate, 6 
St. Ebbe, 6, 13 
St. Edmund, 6 
St. Edward's, 96 
St. Fiideswide (Christchurch 

Chapel), 3, 7, 114 
St. Giles, 19 
St. Martin's, 6, 23, 115 
St. Michael's, 13, 100 
St. Mildred's, 6 
St. Peter's-m-the-East, 13, 

107, 109 

St. Peter lo Bailly, 12 
St. Thomas', 120 
Clubs, 64-67. See also Consti- 
tution Club 
Cnut, King, assembly at Oxford, 

Cockburu, Captain, robbery of, 


Cock-fighting, 118, 208 
Coffee-houses, origin and de- 
scription of, 31-34 
Colledge, The Protestant 
Joiner," 124 



Colley, Jonathan, 166 

Collins, William, 242 

Collinson, Kev. Dr., 233 

Collis, John, 213 

Colman, George, 66 

Companies or Guilds, 112- 

Coningsby, Mr., 169 

Constitution Club, Whig Politi- 
cal, 146-49, 153, 163-65 

Coombes, Elizabeth, 32 

Cordwainers, Company ofj 224 

Cornbury, Lord, 71 

Costar, William, 213 

"Counsellor Bickerton," 184-86 

Country, isolation and non- 
progress of, causes of, 127, 
128, 189-207, 238 

Cowper, Lord, 153 

John, 220 
Richard, 221 

Craggs, Secretary of State, 171 

Cross, Mr , 214 

Crosse, quoted, 70, 71 

Culley, Samuel, Mayor of Ox- 
ford, 99 

D'Aeth, Sir Narborough, 113 
Dalton, Mr., 138 
Darkins, Isaac. See Dumas 
D'Avenant, Sir William, 99 
Davenport, William, 113 
Dawes, Archbishop, 153 
Dounet, Barber, 188 
Dennis, Dr., Vice-Chancellor, 

De Qumcey, at College, 242 ; 

quotod, 34, 41, 55, 78, 191 
Derwentwater's Eebellion, 155 
" Deus-cum-crescat," 8 
Devonshire, Duke of, 229 
Dewy family, 100 
D'Oilly, family of, 11-14 
"Don. The," disappearance of, 


Dormer, Colonel, Pope's visits 

to, 190 

Dover, Farmer, 90 
Drinking, 68-72, 118 
Dry den, John, quoted, 178 
Du Cain, Mr., 149 
Dudley, Lord, 232 
Dumas, the Highwayman, 89- 

94, 237 
"Dyer's Letter," 128 

Eadnc, minister of ^Ethelred, 


Earle, Dr., quoted, 50 
Early rising, 47 
Earthquake in 1775, 120 
Eastred, Bishop, 153 
Eastwich, Sampson, 67 
Eaton, Deodatus, 113 
Eclipse of 1793, 233 
Eden. See Auckland 
Education in the country, 199 
Eighteenth century, changes in, 

Eldon, Lord, reminiscences of 

Oxford, 69, 70, 79 
Elliot, N., 112 
Elliott, General (Lord Heath- 

field), 219 
Enclosure Acts, 88, 201-203, 

Erasmus, 37, 133 

Fairs and wakes, 117, 118, 241 

Fane, Mr., 204 

Farmers of Oxfordshire, 198- 

200, 203, 238 
Fell, Dr., 122 
Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria, 

visit to Oxford, 217 
Fidler, William, 99, 113 
Field, Rev. Robert, 107 
Fmch, Dr., 138 

Fishmongers, Company of, 116 
Fleming, Richard, Bishop of 

Lincoln, 133 



James, jun., 193 
William, Mayor of Oxford, 


Miss Rebecca, 87 
Flood m 1774, 120 
"Florist Feasts," 210 

Samuel, 53, 242 
Miss Polly, 59, 85 
Forbes, Mr., 156 
Ford, quoted, 44 
"Forestalling and regrating," 

109, 219, 238 
Forty, William, 219 
"Founder's Oak," falling of, 

Fox, Charles James, 211, 221, 

France, effect of Eevolution on 

England, 226 

"Freshman's Dream, The," 248 
Freshmen. See wider University 
Fuller, Thomas, 132, 137 


Dr., 126, 146, 165 
Sir James Whalley, 208 
Garnck, David, 127 
George I., accession of, 142 
George III, visits to Oxford, 
211-21S, 217, 221 ; gift of 
money to poor debtors, 
218 ; temporary insanity 
of, 221 
Georges, age of the, review of, 

27-29, 235-244 
Gibbon, Edward, 51, 242 
Gibson, Head of Queen's, 166 
Giffard, Mr., 140 
Gifford, Sir Tom, 72 
Giles, John, 113 
Gloucester, Duke of, 217 
Glovers, Company of, 114 
Godolphin, Sidney, Earl of, 139 
Goldsmith, Oliver, 127, 195 

Government, attitude towards 
Oxford during Jacobite 
troubles, 155, 158, 171- 

Gower, Provost, 54, 242 

Grabe, Dr., 68 

Grampound, 19 

Great Rebellion, Oxford mem- 
ories of, 131, 132 


Rev. William, 233 
Mr., organ-builder, 214 

Grey, Lord, 153 

Griffin, Lord, 137 

Gulden, Francis, 194; Mayor 
of Oxford, 220 

Guilds or Companies, 112-117 

Hacker, Mr., 109 

Hadley, Thomas, 32 

Hales, Mr., 42 

Hall, Anthony, Mayor of Ox- 
ford, 101 

James, 223 

Nicholas, Mayor of Oxford, 

HandysitVfl Regiment of Foot, 

Harcourt, Earls of, 153, 210, 
212, 217, 232 

Hardy, Thoman, 223 

Harloy, Robert, Earl of Oxford, 
140, 142 

Harper, William, 32 

Harpur, Joseph, 113 

Harry, J , 96 

Hawkins, Mr., 77 


Dr., 212, 214, 229 
Richard, 99 

Haynes, Stephen, 213 

Hearne, Thos., described, 34 ; 
quoted concerning college 
life, 35, 42, 66, 68, 118 ; 
Earl of Abmgdon, 104 ; 



Jacobite csuse, 134, 137, 

140, 145, 146, 155, 165, 

166, 169; "Old Will 

Bremichani,"123; Wesley, 


Heath, Judg% 234 
Heathfield, Lord (Gen. Elliott), 

Henry I, and IL, Charters 

granted to Oxford, 18 
Henry III., "Provisions of 

Oxford " granted by, 16 
Herne, Mr., 113 
"High Borlace Club," 58, 66, 

Highwaymen, 89-94, 192-194, 

History of Oxford, early, 4- 

Hitchmgs, or Hitchins, Edward, 

113, 219 
Hoadley, 162 
Hobbes, 47 
Hobson, 32 
Holdsworth, 125- 
Holt, Mr., of Magdalen, Pro- 
proctor, 163 
Holy Trinity, Order of, for the 

Bedemption of Captives, 

"Honest," term for Jacobite, 


Horseman, James, 32 
Howe, Lord, 230 
Hurdis, Professor, quoted, 77 
Hurst, ironmonger, 152, 153 

Dr., 40, 42, 122 
William, 100, 220 

Ibbetson, Mr., 138 
lies, Dr., 37 
Immorality, 119 
Inett, death of, 71 
Inoculation for smallpox, new 
remedy, 110-112 

Mr., 193 
William, proprietor of Oxford 

Journal, 219 

Jacobitism. See under Uni- 

Jenner, Sir William, 110 
Jews, establishment of, in Ox- 
ford in eleventh century, 

7 ; protection accorded to, 

8 ,* wealth and influence, 9- 
11; "Jews' MounV 14; 
separate jurisdiction, 19 

"Johnny," 188 
John, 223 

Samuel, "poor scholar" at 
Oxford, 44, 243 ; capacity 
for drinking, 70 ; attracted 
to London, 127; quoted, 40 
Jonas, Mr., 91 
Thomas, 99 
William, 100 
Joy, Thomas, 113 

Kenyon, Lord, 220, 238 
Kettle, Dr., 43 

Charles, 32 

Dr., Pimcipal of St. Mary'b 
Hall, 130, 143, 176-178 

John, 32 

Labour in Oxfordshire, 112, 

Langton, Col, 228 

Laud, Archbishop, 184 


Isaac, Mayor of Oxford, 213 
Mr., 104 

Laws, arbitrary, 112 

Leak, 125 

Mr., 107 
Sir William, 209 



Lernster, Duke of, 222 

Leland, John, quoted, 13 

Le Maitre, 94 

Leslie, "Memorial of the 
Church of England," 135 

Lilly, William, 200 

k < Little Dickey James," 187 

Mr., 66 
Richard, 228 

Loehard, the newsman, 85 

Lock, Edward, Mayor of Ox- 
ford, 100, 193, 228 

Locke, John, 124, 134 

Lollards, the, 133 

London, league with Oxford, 
17 ; compared with Oxford 
as to municipal growth, 
18 ; the centre of civilisa- 
tion, 126 

Lovelace, Lord, 71 

"Loyal Association," 227 

Lydiatt, Mr., 41 

Lyne's Coffee-house, 48 

Macadam, 129 
Macclesfield, Lord, 171, 224 
"Mad Parliament," the, 16 
Malmeshury, Lord, 53, 242 
Manufactures, 205, 206 
Mar, Earl of, rebellion of, 142, 

Mara, 210 

Marlborough, Dukes of, Parlia- 
mentary elections, 104- 
108, 237 ; charitable dona- 
tions, 109 ; royal visit to 
Oxford, 217 ; present to 
Oxford, 225; Test and 
Corporation Act, 222 ; 
poor relief during war, 232 
Masham, Mrs., 140 
Mason, 174 

Massey, Mr., quoted, 95 
Maud, Empress, besieged at 
Oxford Castle, 14 

Maynwaring, 134 

Mayor, authority of, in old 

days, 4 
Meadowcourt Mr., 163, 164, 


Mercers, Company of, 114 
Merchant Guilds, 17, 22 
" Merton Walks, or the Oxford 

Beauties," 60 
Milton, John, 47 
"Monitor, The," 33 
Monmouth's Rebellion, 103 
Montague, Lady Mary, 111 
Montfort, Earl Simon de, 

Moore, Bishop, Library of, 156, 

Morcar, assassination of, 


MorrelL Mr., 193 
Moseley, Mr., 165 
Moss, Dr., 139 
"Mother Goose, "184 
Municipal affairs of Oxford. 

See under University 
Municipal life in England com- 
pared with that of foreign 

towns, 21 
Municipal Reform Act, 102, 

Music room, the, 210 

Nares, Sergeant, 107 

Nash, Beau, 63 

Nesbitt, Arnold, 105 

Newcastle, Duke of, Chancellor 
of Cambridge, 174 

Newton, Dr., quoted, 73 

Nibb, Mr., 104 

Nicholas, Dr., 101 

Nicholson, attempted assassina- 
tion of the King, 217 

Norris, Lord, made Earl of 
Abmgdon, 103 

North, Lord, 153, 214 ; death 
of, 229 



Northwade, Dr., 114 
Nourse, Sir Charles, 219 
Nuneham, residence of 
Har courts, 210 


Ockley, Mr , 42 

Ogilvie, Mr., Parliamentary 

candidate, 224 
Orange, Pnnce of, journey to 

Oxford, 127, 191 
Ordric, Abbot, 17 
Ormond, Duke of, 141, 151 
Osney, Abbey of, 7, 13 
Owen, Col., 155, 160 
Oxford Journal, the, William 

Jackson, originator and 

proprietor, 219 ; specimen 

of contents, 85-97; quoted, 

31, 66, 105, 193 
Oxford Spectator, the, extract 

from, 248 
Oxfordshire Eegiment of Militia, 

221, 230, 234 

Paine, Tom, 227, 228 

Pantm, sale of a wife to, 

Panting, Master of Pembroke, 


Parker, 153 
Parker, Captain, 224 
Parker, Lord, ib, 
Parker, Major, 230 
Parliamentary elections, bribery 

and corruption, 105-108 
Parsons, John, Mayor of Oxford, 

Pauling, Robert, Mayor of 

Oxford, 101, 103 
Pears, Mr., 213 
Peckwetlier, Radulph, 99 
Pennyfarthmg Street, 99 
Penyverthing family, 99 
Pepper, Major-Gen., 155 
Percival, Lord, robbery of, 89, 

Percy, Dr., collector oi Religues, 


Peshall, quoted, 109, 114, 115 
Phipps, Sir Constantino, 151 
Pillory, the, 95, 96 
Pitt, William, 211, 214, 221, 


Plot, Dr., quoted, 67, 132 
Police, inadequacy of, 89, 193 
"Poor Jack the matchman " 

Bates, 206 
Relief during the war, 231- 


"Poor scholars," 41-45 
Pope, Alexander, 190 
Population of Oxford town and 

county, 207 
Portland, Duke of, 229 
Portmannimote, 6, 22 
Port-meadow, 6, 17 
Pretender, the. See Jacobite 

Cause, under University 
Prickett, Thomas, 193 
Prince, bookseller, 178 
Prisons, condition of, 94 
Progress, absence o in country 

compared with towns, cause 

of, 127, 189-207 
Provincial towns, importance 

of, 129 

" Provisions of Oxford," 16 
Punishments, 95-97 
Purnell, Dr., 173 

Races, city, 208 
Radcliife Infirmary, 241 
Raymond, Jemmet, 167 
Reformation, the, attitude of 

Oxford University, 133 
Regency, question in 1788, 221 
Religion in eighteenth century, 

JReliques of Ancient English 

Poetry, by Dr. Percy, 229 



Rice, P., 113 

Roads, condition of, 127, 190- 


Boberson, Thomas, 32 
Robinson, Bishop, 38, 40 

Fred., 113 

Mr., Proproctor, 138 
Rowland, James, 223 
Rudge, Mr., 209 
Rupert, Prince, 123 

Sacheverell, Dr., impeachment 

of, 134, 138 

Present of a wife, 219 
Mr., balloon of, 209 
St. Aldate, 6 
St. Ebbe's, 6, 13 
St. Edmund's, 6 
St. Edward's, 96 
St. Frideswide Church, 3, 6, 

114 ; monastery, 5 ; fan*, 


St. Giles, 19 
St. John's Hospital, 96 
St. Martin's, 6, 23, 115 
St. Michael's, 13, 100 
St. Mildred's, 6 
St. Peter's-in-the-East, 13, 107, 


St. Peter le Baffly, 12 
St. Thomas, 120 
Salmon, quoted, 118 
Sampson, Mr., Ill 
Sancroft, Archbishop, 137 
Sanctuary, right of, 96, 98 
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, 


Scott, John (Lord Eldon), 71 
Segrim family, 100 
Servitor, the, 36-41, 237 
Shakespear, 99 
Shelley, 242 

Sherwin, the beadle, 150 
Shirburne, H., 122 

Shoemakers, Company of, 113 

Shortland, Mr., 193 

Shotover Woods, 132 

Sigeferth, assasisnation of, 15 

Skinner, John, 97 

Slatford, contest for town 
clerkship, 104 

Slatter, William, 220 

Smallpox, new remedy of in- 
oculation, 110-112 

Smalridge, Bishop, 139, 140, 
150, 153, 158 

Smith, Adam, 232 

Smith, "The Linen Draper," 

Smoking, 67 

Sotham, Mr., 202 

Southey, quoted, 70, 77, 159 

Spectator, the, 78 

Earl, 229 
Family, 105 
Lord Charles, 221 
Lord Henry, 222 
Lord Robert, 107, 109, 153, 
208, 212, 214 

Spinning, 200 

Spratt, Bishop, 137 

Stanley, Lord, robbery of, 89 

Stapylton, Mr., 107 

Steele, Sir Richard, quoted, 

Stephen, King, siogo of the 
Empress Maud, 14; as- 
sembly at Oxford, 16 

Stephenson, George, 129 

Stocks, the, 97 

Stodely, J., Mayor of Oxford, 

Stone houses first built by Jews, 

Stonhouse, Miss, 66 

Streat, Mr., 166 

Street, Mr., 77 

Streets, 99, 100, 116, 216, 241 

Sunderland, Earl of, 153, 159 



Swegen, death of, 15 

Dean, quoted, 189 
John, 223 

Tagg, James, 220 

Talbot, Mr., 138 

Tainan, William, trial of, 233, 


Tatham, Dr., 186 
Taunton, Mr., 193, 198 
Taverns and ale-houses, 72 
Tawney, Edward, Mayor of 

Oxford, 213 
Richard, 193 ; knighthood 

conferred on, 217 
Taylors, Company of, 113, 224, 


Tennison, Archbishop, 138 
Test and Corporation Act, 


Thompson, W., 113 
Thornton, Bonwell, 66 
Thorp, Win., sen., Mayor of 

Oxford, 223 
Thorpe, Wm., Mayor of Oxford, 

Thurston, contest for Town 

Clerkship, 104 
Thynne, Lady Isabella, 57 
"Toast, the," influence of, on 

college life, 57-63 
Tongue, Mr., 193 

Architecture, 7-10 
Boundaries of jurisdiction in 

early days, 19 
Charters granted by Henry I. 

and II., 18, 22, 23 
Early history of, 4-24 
Jews' settlement in (see Jews) 
League with London, 17 
Loyalty at end of eighteenth 

century, 221, 227 
Municipal affairs, 100, 102, 
216-225, 241 

Prosperity of, in early days, 

3-5, 18, 23 

"Provisions of Oxford," 16 
Streets, 99,100, 116,216,241 
War, distress during the, 

231, 233 
Town-mote, 23 
Townshend, Lord, 153, 156, 


Trapp, Mr., 42 
Treacher, Sir John, Mayor of 

Oxford, 212, 218 
Trevor, Lord, 153 
Tyrrel, Ben, 82, 85 


Amusements, 74-83, 241 

Clubs, 64-67 

Coffee-houses, 31-34 

Dinner-hour, 34 

Don, the, disappearance of, 

Drinking, 68-72, 118 

Early iismg, 47 

"Freshman's Dream," 248 

Freshmen, life of, 46-63, 166, 

German universities, com- 
pared with, 160 

Hatred of foreigners, 167 

Jacobite sympathies, causes 
of, 122 - 130 ; attitude, 
130-140, 146-149, 151- 
154 ; Mar's rebellion, 142, 
154-158 ; forbearance of 
Government, 155, 158, 
17l-173j Whigs and Tories, 
160-173; disappearance of 
Jacobitism and loyalty to 
the Georges, 178, 211, 239 

Plans of reformation of the 
colleges, 171 

"Poor scholars," 41-45 

Reformation, attitude during, 

Servitor, the, 36-41, 237 



University CMimed. 
Smoking, 67 

Taverns and ale-houses, 7*2 
Toast, the, influence on col 

lege life, 57-63 
"Young Oxford," 247-266 

Vernon, Miss, 108 
Villiers, Barbara, 57 
Vives, Ludovicus, 133 

Wake, Archbishop, 171 
Wakes, 118 
Walden, Lionel, 155 
John, 193 
Thomas, President of " Loyal 

Association," 227 
Walley, John, 113 
War, the, how it affected Ox- 
ford, 226-233 
Ward, Tippety, 183 

Tom, jun., college life, 48, 
175, 243; Court laure- 
ate, 212 ; death of, 220 ; 
quoted, 31, 32, 73, 82 
Tom, sen., 64, 170 
Watson, John, Mayor of Ox- 
ford, 213 

Waynflete, William of, 223 
Wealth of Nations, 232 
Weavers, Company of, 115 
Wenman, Thomas Francis, 97 
Charles, 168 
John, 168, 240 
Samuel, sen., 39, 135, 143, 242 
Samuel, jun., 143 
West, Eichard, 113 
Weston, Eichard, Mayor of 

Oxford, 99, 219 
Whately, 249 

Whigs and Tories at Oxford, 

Whitefield, George, 38, 240 

Whiteside, 72 

Whitlock, 151, 156 

Wickham, Miss Molly, 66 

Wife, sale of a, 119, 218 

Williams, Eev. John, 87 

Browne, 34 
Dr. Thomas, 37, 80 

Willoughby, Sir C., 204 

Wills, Dr., 161 

Witchcraft, 119 

Wolsey, Cardinal, 133 

Wood, Anthony a, quoted, 
coffee, 31 ; municipal elec- 
tions, 101, 102, Earl of 
Abmgdon, 103 ; public en- 
tertainments, 107 ; com- 
panies, 114 ; Whigs and 
Tories, 161 ; memoranda, 

Woods near Oxford, 132 

Woolcombers, Company of, 215 

Wright, William, 223 

Wyatt, Mr., Principal of Mary 
Hall, 168 

Wycliffe, 133 

Wyndham, 151 

Wyndham, Right Hon, William. 

Wynn, Sir Watkin, punch-bowl 
bequeathed to Jesus Col- 
lege, 70 

Wynne, Dr., 126 

Yeats, Christopher, 213 
Young, Arthur, quoted, 191, 

198, 201, 203 
Young Oxford, 247-266 
Young Travellers, or a Visit to 
Oxford, 181 

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